


A Pile Of Bones

by Not_So_Secretly_a_Spaceship



Series: A Pile Of Bones [4]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Baze is very long suffering, Bodhi is a precious cinnamon roll, Bones has a truly terrible bed-side manner, Cassian is a terrible patient, Chirrut and Baze are totes married, Chirrut is a Troll, Everybody Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Fix-It, I use big words so I sound more photosynthesis, Linta is everyone's mum, M/M, Medical Procedures, Medical Professionals, Not for the faint of heart, Post Rogue One, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unicorn enabled again, because nobody ever uses plain english where they can use fancy words to bamboozle, damnit Mon I'm a veterinarian not a field medic, fixit, graphic descriptions of medical procedures, happy ending I promise, medical glossaries, severe anxiety, she should do it professionally, slowburn Cassian/Jyn, so much swearing, there's gonna be angst before bedtime, who's idea was this insanity (oh wait)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-13 22:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 25,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9145375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_So_Secretly_a_Spaceship/pseuds/Not_So_Secretly_a_Spaceship
Summary: Her communicator buzzes to life.  “Rogue One coming in with casualties, you're requested at landing pad A2, emergency on board.”“Confirm, landing pad A2.  Request what kind of medical emergency."“Uhh emergency not breathing, pilot advises three more passengers have sustained blaster injuries,” the voice replies.“Someone must have said we were quiet today,” Linta comments.“I'm going to find them and pour bantha shit into their boots,” she snarls in reply.“I'll help you.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well shit. I've watched Rogue One twice so far, and I am so many different kinds of not okay with the ending I just can't even.
> 
> As I do with all new stories, introductions are in order. I'm a vet student. I write short(ish) chapters, some of which are much much shorter than others. Some are set one after the other, others are just little snippets in time. It works for me, because, like I said before, I'm a vet student, which means I spend 99.9% of my time sobbing into my laminated notes, and the other 0.1% of my time either playing with my animals, eating, shitting, or sleeping (usually never doing two of these at once).
> 
> This is all totally gratuitous. It's going to be Chirrut/Baze and eventual Cassian/Jyn. It's going to be OC Bones (imagine a slightly younger, female version of Star Trek's Bones McCoy) being a seriously grumpy sweary toad, and Bodhi being a seriously precious cinnamon bun who JUST NEEDS CUDDLES AND CODDLES OKAY! And OC Linta mothering everyone.
> 
> Also because I'm a vet I (theoretically) know animal anatomy and physiology, not human. Also because I'm a student, I don't know a huge amount about treatment thereof, so I'm improvising a bit, and collaborating with a vet nurse to get slightly more accurate things. I'll also stick a glossary of terms up at the end of each chapter and attempt a laymans explanation of it (GOOD PRACTICE FOR MEEEEEEEEE).

Her communicator buzzes to life. "Rogue One coming in with casualties, you're requested at landing pad A2, emergency on board."

"Confirm, landing pad A2. Request what kind of medical emergency," Bones replies. She's already in motion, hands grabbing her kit. Linta spots her from across the room and whirls into action herself.

"Tib, Dart, with me; Pen, prep room four, unknown incoming casualties," Linta says, and the nurses rush out the door to obey.

"Uhh emergency not breathing, pilot advises three more passengers have sustained blaster injuries," the voice replies.

"Confirm emergency not breathing, confirm three further injured, request Rogue One ETA," she barks. Linta slips into step with her, carrying her own emergency kit. Tib and Dart fall into step behind them, checking their own array of on-the-body supplies. There always gurneys located in the hangers, for exactly this reason, even though it is very rare for a pilot to return to them in such a condition as to need one.

They're usually dead by then.

"Rogue One ETA two and counting. Out." The communicator gives one last spit of crackling and goes quiet.

"Shit," she says emphatically, and breaks into a run. Linta keeps pace beside her. "You got that?"

"Yep," Linta says. She pulls out her communicator. "Pen, have the crash cart on hand and four beds, we have one non breather and three blasters coming in."

"Confirmed, one non breather and three blasters, one crash cart and four beds. Advise relocating to room eight as it has more bacta tanks," Pen's voice crackles over the communicator.

"Confirmed room eight. Will advise on nature of emergency and blaster injuries on our way. Out." Linta clicks the communicator and clips it back onto her belt. "Someone must have said we were quiet today."

"I'm going to find them and pour bantha shit into their boots," she snarls in reply.

"I'll help you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I've put a really big glossary at the end for any unfamiliar terms with an attempt at layman's explanations, in the order they appear in the fic. For anyone visually impaired using text-to-speech software, if your software is having difficulty with these terms, MESSAGE ME and I'll put up a recording of the difficult chapters for you to listen to, as well as the full glossary.
> 
> I'll explain my reasoning as to why Bones works like this later in the fic, but for now, just go with the flow that she's a hands-on doc. I'm running off a mishmash of current techniques and futuristic diagnostic equipment. I figure the rebellion wouldn't have all the really cool shit, and what cool shit they do have, they use as sparingly as they can. I've done my best to make this as medically accurate as possible.

By the time they reach landing pad A2 – the closest landing pad to the internal bulkhead, and thus the best place to land for quick access to/from medical – the Delta class T-3c is already landed and beginning its hatch opening process.

“Clear the area!” Linta booms, and people scramble out of the way but for four security personnel. They stand between them and the hatch. Tib and Dart stand on either side of a gurney, ready to roll it up the ramp as soon as it finalises its descent.

The hatch thunks against the metal flooring and the air clears. A huge man stands and gestures.

“Hurry!” he says. “He cannot breathe!” Bones identifies the edge of panic in his eyes, movement, voice, before they're thundering up the ramp and into the belly of the shuttle.

There are two men lying on the floor. One is bleached-bone white beneath his oxygen mask. The other watches them with dark eyes from a pinched face. The security personnel diffuse into the ship, checking for any threats.

The medical team descends.

“Tib, get me stats on dirty mo,” Bones snaps, whipping out her stethoscope and plugging it into her ears. She hears a noise of protest from said man. Tib kneels and whips out his medisensor.

“Dart, I want triage and stats on everyone else on this ship.” Dart moves off after a quick salute to check over the large man who first gestured them in (tentatively holding left arm, dragging left leg from the hip) and the woman sitting off to one side with a brutally tight tourniquet around her thigh.

Linta jerks open the prone man's robes to bare his chest, one hand reaching up to probe his trachea and tip his chin back. She pulls off the oxygen mask and whips out an endotracheal tube and laryngoscope.

“I'm hearing nothing,” Bones says. She throws her hand up to the man's neck to probe his jugular. Swears and jabs a blood pressure and heart rate monitor onto his finger. It beeps. “We've got heart rate, no breath, cardiac auscultation negative,” she rattles. “BP fourty over twenty.”

“Cyanotic mucous membranes and lips. CRT _way_ over two. Larynx and trachea clear. Intubating,” Linta replies.

“Possible pneumothorax, thoracocentesis now,” Bones says. Her hands reach for her gloves, swabs, sterile scrub and preps a needle and syringe. She sticks the plunger end between her teeth, whips on her gloves. Swabs the skin in the lateral ninth intercostal space and scrubs it down _hard_. Removes the cap from the needle and carefully guides it between the ribs. She draws back on the plunger. “Fuck it's haemothorax.”

“Bones, it's blast injuries,” Tib says. There's a moment of silence.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she says.

“Endotracheal tube in,” Linta says. “Delivering one hundred percent oxygen, artificial respiration.” Bones continues pulling the plunger, and continues sucking up blood.

“BP thirty five over fifteen,” Bones calls out. She pulls off the full syringe and sticks a new, much larger one, on the needle. She withdraws the plunger at a steady rate.

“Pilot, third degree burns! Thirty percent TBI _minimum_ , no respiratory involvement, facial involvement at one, two and three, hand involvement at three and then he _piloted the damn ship_ ,” Dart howls from somewhere near the front.

“Get more gurneys!” Bones yells, and the security personnel scatter to obey.

“Dirty mo suspected multiple fractures T10 to L5, clean fracture left clavicle, blaster right shoulder, fractures to left ribs three and four, right nine, nerve impingement suspected to hindlimbs, HR, RR, BP stable,” Tib calls out.

“Four gurneys! More hands, now!” Bones shouts out the hatch. She is rewarded with the whining of the grav-gurneys and the thundering of feet as they ascend up the ramp. Tib takes over directing the extra assistance.

“We've got assisted respiration,” Linta says. Bones withdraws the needle and pulls the robes further open, gaping them well past his waist. He's nude beneath the robes. She taps his distended abdomen. It wobbles.

“Ascites!” Bones says. “I need to know what's going on in there _now_ , get him up we need the bioscanner!” Security personnel leap to obey.

“Wait! Fracture to C6 to C7, neck brace!” Linta yells, and the helping hands immediately stop. Tib thrusts the neck brace into Linta's grasp and Bones moves to hold the head and neck stable while she carefully slides the bands beneath. She clamps it shut.

“Right, on three, we lift and get him onto the gurney,” Bones says, keeping careful hold of the man's head. Four security personnel dive in and clench their fingers in the man's robes, one on each corner. “Right. One, two, three!” The lift is seamless. Linta keeps the oxygen tubing clear, and the man is deposited on the first of the grav gurneys.

“Dart, load up and send along in triage, I want char-grill naked and in bacta _now_.”

“Confirmed char-grill loaded, mine for stripping and bacta,” Dart replies. “Dirty mo your second, short-stack third, human wookie to nurse for blaster.”

“Confirmed,” Bones says. “Push!” she tells the security personnel and they pelt down the ramp at full tilt.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endotracheal tube - oral breathing tube.
> 
> Laryngoscope - looks a bit like the forceps they stick up your hoohaa but curved to go down the throat, for visual inspection of larynx and placement of endotracheal tube.
> 
> Auscultation - listening (to anything) with the stethoscope.
> 
> BP - blood pressure. First number is the pressure in the arteries when the heart beats (so the pressure against which the heart must pump), the second is the pressure in the arteries between heart beats (so the pressure at which the heart fills). 
> 
> Cyanotic mucous membranes - mucous membranes are our favourite thing to check because they tell us a LOT and QUICKLY. Cyanotic mucous membranes are blue mucous membranes, indicating a low oxygen saturation in the tissues.
> 
> CRT - capillary refill time. This is when you push on the gum and lift your finger to watch how quickly the white-bleached finger indentation fills. This is a quick gauge for circulation - the faster it fills, the harder or faster the blood is being pumped around the body. The rule of thumb (for animals at least) is CRT of less than 2 seconds is adequate, CRT around 1 is optimal. Any slower than 2 and you start worrying about circulatory issues.
> 
> Intubating - sticking an endotracheal tube into the trachea to assist with breathing.
> 
> Pneumothorax - air in the pleural cavity between the lungs and the internal thoracic wall. Our bodies are crazy hax. We have visceral pleura lining the outside of our lungs and parietal pleura lining the inside of our thoracic cavity. These two pleura are separated and lubricated by a very thin layer of fluid. This allows the tissue of our lungs and thoracic cavities to slide against each other during inhalation and exhalation. Things get very bad when you have anything ELSE between those two layers, like air. Suddenly it starts getting very hard to breathe.
> 
> Thoracocentesis - is, in this case, an emergency procedure where you stick a needle into the pleural space (being very careful NOT to hit the lung) to remove the other substance in the pleural space and to make it easier for the animal (or in this case, human) to breathe.
> 
> Intercostal space - the space between ribs. So the first intercostal space will be the space between the first and second ribs, etc.
> 
> Haemothorax - blood in the pleural space / thoracic cavity.
> 
> Blast injuries - see next chapter.
> 
> TBI - total body involvement. This is how much of the body in its entirety is covered in burns.
> 
> Facial involvement at one, two, three - first, second and third degree burns to the face.
> 
> Hand involvement at three - third degree burns to the hands.
> 
> T10 to L5 - thoracic vertebrae 10-13 and lumbar vertebrae 1-5 - basically all his mid back.
> 
> HR - heart rate.
> 
> RR - respiratory rate.
> 
> Assisted respiration - basically breathing for him.
> 
> Ascites - fluid in the abdominal cavity.
> 
> C6 to C7 - cervical vertebrae 6 and 7, so lower neck.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's really jargon heavy, because I like to sound more photosynthesis :D
> 
> Edit because I said catheter instead of IV. Catheters go up the peehole to drain urine. IVs go into veins to provide fluids. What a thing to mix up. AND PEOPLE ARE GOING TO BRING ANIMALS TO ME TO TREAT good gods. 
> 
> WARNING: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF SURGICAL PROCEDURES AHEAD! NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART! LOTS OF BLOOD! Also I'm pretty sure you can't actually perform this procedure from a midline incision, given the location of the organ involved, so I'm claiming creative license on that.
> 
> Glossary at the end, in order of how it appears in the fic. (Shit the glossary is huge. Sorry guys, it should start shortening up in the future chapters.) (So big I've had to include two terms up here!)
> 
> Crash cart - defibrilator and various stimulants (like adrenaline) to get things going again.
> 
> Blast damage, primary, secondary, tertiary - blast damage is a nasty one. Primary damage is damage sustained from the shock wave itself, such as burst eardrums, damage to lungs, and any hollow internal organs. Secondary damage is damage sustained from things flying places from the explosion, like shrapnel. Tertiary damage is damage sustained from the displacement of air making you move, like being thrown into a wall, or into the ground.

“Pen, have crash cart ready. Five incoming. Blast damage emergency. Primary, secondary, tertiary suspected – haemothorax, ascites. Artificial respiration, one hundred percent oxygen, HR fourteen, BP thirty over ten, fracture to C6 to C7, suspect contusion or fracture to facial bones including nose. Prep bioscanner over table one. Prep bacta tank one for full immersion at twenty four hours.

“Next, Dart, burn emergency, third degree, suspect burns to thirty percent TBI minimum, no respiratory involvement, facial involvement at one, two, three, hand involvement at three. Get ready to strip fabric, prep bacta tank two, full immersion at twelve hours.

“Next, Bones, multiple fractures T10 to L5, to left clav, left ribs three and four, right rib nine, blaster to right shoulder. Prep bioscanner over table six. Prep bacta tank three, full immersion at twelve hours.

“Next, Bones, ischaemic left leg, blaster to left hip. Prep bioscanner over table eight. Prep bacta tank four, full immersion at three hours.

“Next, nurse, blaster to left shoulder, hip. Prep bioscanner over table three. Prep bacta tank five, full immersion at two hours.”  

“Confirm. Crash cart ready. Blast damage. Bio table one. Bacta tank one at two four. Burn. Bacta tank two at one two. T10 to L5 fractures. Bio table six. Bacta tank three at one two. Left leg. Bio table eight. Bacta tank four at three. Blaster. Bio table three. Bacta tank five at two. Request ETA and order,” Pen replies.

“Advise ETA is three, order is blast, burn, spine, leg, blaster,” Linta replies.

Bones can hear the whining of another grav gurney behind them, the thumping of boots on metal, and a voice saying “I'm fine, really, it's not that bad”. That must be the char-grilled pilot.

“Fucking _not that bad_ ,” Bones snarls under her breath.

“Poor lad isn't going to like it when the nerve endings start up again,” Linta comments. Bones grunts. They round the corner to med room eight, and Bones thanks her lucky stars her nurses are _smart_ , because med room eight has _all_ the toys.

They're going to need them.

Pen's hands replace one of the security personnel's hands at the head of the gurney. Between Pen and Linta, they guide the grav gurney to table one and slam down the side railings.

“We slide on three,” Bones says, taking hold of the oxygen tubing in one hand and the back of the man's head in the other. “One, two, three!” Linta and Pen lift the man by his robes and slide him onto table one. Pen whips around and moves the grav gurney to the edge of the room, out of the way, as Linta takes back over the oxygen and Bones cranks down the bioscanner.

“ _Shit shit shit_ ,” Bones growls. “Pulmonary edema, hemoabdomen, ah _fuck_ it's the spleen. Fractured C6 to C7, zygoma, nose, frontal, clavicle, burst tympanic membrane, suspected damage to cochlea.”

“Five credits say it's blood,” Linta says.

“I'm not taking that, it's blast injury, of _course_ it's going to be goddamn blood,” Bones replies. “He'll manage on the oxygen if we can get his BP up. I'm scrubbing in. I need suction, and get me the slice-and-dice kit, because that banthafucker is coming _out_.”

“I'm fine, really!” the pilot says as his biobed comes into the room. Bones pays him no mind and continues her scrub-in.

“Sterile zone!” she calls as she gowns and gloves up. Pen hauls a wheeled table up and unwraps the external wrap of a large med kit. Starts scrubbing down the abdominal midline. “Splenic artery and vein, short gastric arteries cranial, goddamn _pancreas_ too, _fuck_ spleens.” Linta jabs a hypospray against the man's neck. Unclips the capsule, clips in a new one, and jabs him again. “Get an IV into him. The _second_ I've tied off these fucking vessels you hit him with crystalloids.”

Pen hands Linta the needle and kit, then hauls over the fluid pump and several bags of crystalloids.

“IV in, flush clear,” Linta calls.

“Going in, get me suction!” Bones clips on the scalpel blade. With great care, she slices through the epidermis just below the xyphoid cartilage of the sternum, straight down the midline to nearly the umbilicus. She uses tissue forceps to carefully grip the linea alba of the rectus abdominus muscle beneath and lift it away from the abdominal cavity. She punctures it with her scalpel blade.

The suction tubing arrives just in time to suck up the mess of blood that pours from the tiny hole. She sets aside her scalpel blade and picks up her scissors, and begins opening the abdominal cavity in its fullness. Pen continues the suction as blood bubbles up to spill over pale flesh.

Once the cavity is fully opened, Bones sets her scissors to one side.

“What are you doing?” comes the gravelly voice of the human wookie. Bones ignores him and shoves her hand in, feeling around for the splenophrenic ligament to begin to tear down. “What are you doing?” the voice repeats, higher, more frantic this time.

“Shut up and sit down,” Bones snaps, fingers punching their way through ligamentous material. Her hand slides down the convex surface of the spleen to find the colon and much shorter splenocolic ligament. Her eyes stare at nothing as she focuses all her attention to her gloved fingers.

“Really I'm fi – OW,” comes the voice of the singed pilot from the back of the room. Separating burnt fabric and skin is neither an easy, nor a painless process. Dart hacks great swathes of clothing off.

“Two big bore IV lines, anywhere you can stick them in him, give him crystalloids, I want one litre in him ASAP, someone run the calculation and get the maintenance rate set up,” Bones shouts across the bay. Linta picks up her communicator.

“Davith and Jolan to med room eight,” she barks.

“Confirm, Davith and Jolan to med room eight,” her communicator spits out. The two young men arrive after dirty mo's stretcher. “Dirty mo to table six _extreme care_ multiple thoracolumbar vertebral fractures, get bioscanner up, Jolan stay. Davith to Dart, I need two big bore IVs into burns patient hooked up to crystalloids, one litre STAT. Calculate maintenance rate for full immersion in bacta tank two at one two hours,” Linta barks at the nurses. They move.

Bones' fingers find the left kidney, nestled into the spleen's inferior pole, and begins to break apart the splenorenal ligament. Pen is hooking the midline incision open to allow for a greater visual window. She's not doing a damn splenectomy _blind_.

She hears the whine of the last grav gurney as short-stack with the bung leg is brought in and set to one side. “Jolan, bioscan shorty, left leg, confirm vessel and nerve integrity,” Linta says.

“Ow!” the pilot howls.

“Why isn't he anaesthetised!” Bones yells.

“He's refusing!” Dart yells back.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Bones shouts and bares her teeth at the spleen from behind her mask. Linta diverts herself from dirty mo's bioscanner to the pilot, extra crispy. There's murmuring. She thinks she hears a mantra.

“I am the pilot, I am the pilot, I am the pilot.” Whatever that means.

“Administering dipill at four mills per kilo, maximum ten mills per kilo,” Linta calls. “Advise conergin inadvisable in current mental state.”

“I am the pilot, I am the pilot, I am the pilot.”

Bones manoeuvres the spleen to midline. “I need more suction,” she says, and Pen is right there, scooping up the blood oozing from _everywhere_ on the damn thing. “Well fuck me sideways and call me Sandy, I ain't never seen a spleen like this. I want it preserved for posterity.”

“That's no spleen, that's the contents of a jam jar,” Linta comments as she swings past. Bones snorts into her mask. She triple clamps off the short gastric arteries and sutures them off, severing the end and leaving the last clamp on, and pulls the spleen more midline.

“I am … the pilot … I am the _pilot_...”

She carefully inserts her forceps into the gastrosplenic ligament, tight to the splenic hilum. The last thing she wants to do is damage the tail of the pancreas. That gets messy _really quickly_. She blunt dissects out the splenic artery and vein. Grabs her clamps. Spaces them out: three on the splenic artery, three on the splenic vein. She grabs her needle and thickest, nonabsorbable suture material and sets to work.

A few minutes later she has the spleen out and is very _very_ carefully checking her work for bleeders. Pen cleans the area with the suction tube. Bones grasps the edge of the gastrosplenic ligament and releases her clamp on the end of the splenic vein, first. Nothing. She then releases the clamp on the end of the splenic artery. Still nothing.

“Thank _fuck_ ,” she says. She then clamps onto the edge of the mesentery holding the short gastric arteries and unclamps the severed end of those, and still, no bleeding. She shoves a swab gauze inside the abdominal cavity and wipes it around. It comes out thick with blood. She repeats the procedure with fresh swabs until they (eventually) start coming out nearly dry, waits a few seconds, and wipes again. “No bleeders, crystalloids in now, clear to close,” she says, and Linta opens the fluid floodgates.

“Confirm crystalloids,” Linta says.

“I'm … the pilot … the pilot … the pilot.”

Bones hands over to Pen for the suturing and begins to scrub out. “Intramuscular, subcutaneous and cutaneous please,” she says. Pen is already several stitches into stitching up the relatively avascular linea alba.

“Confirm intramuscular, subcutaneous, cutaneous,” Pen replies.

“Confirm BP increasing, fourty over twenty,” Linta calls.

“Linta, set and strap his nose while Pen's closing. Once he's closed, get him in the bacta tank and onto packed RBCs.”

“Confirm, set nose, bacta tank, packed RBC,” Linta replies.

“Good. Jolan, brief me on dirty mo,” Bones says.

“I'm … the … _pilot_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haemothorax - blood in the thorax (see pneumothorax in last chapter for more detail).
> 
> Ascites - fluid in the abdomen.
> 
> HR - heart rate.
> 
> BP - blood pressure (see last chapter BP for more detail).
> 
> C6 to C7 - cervical vertebrae 6 and 7, in the lower neck.
> 
> Contusion - area where capillaries have ruptured. You can have bone bruises. They suck.
> 
> Fracture - break of any kind. 
> 
> TBI - total body involvement, relating to how much of the body is burnt. 
> 
> Facial involvement at one, two, three - first, second and third degree burns to the face.
> 
> Hand involvement at three - third degree burns to the hand.
> 
> T10 to L5 - thoracic vertebrae 10-13 and lumbar vertebrae 1-5. This is mid-lower back.
> 
> Ischaemic - lack of blood circulation, typically indicated by total whiteness of the skin. This is different and distinct to cyanotic, which is lack of oxygen. You can have full blood circulation with very little oxygen, and you can have poor blood circulation with lots of oxygen. 
> 
> Pulmonary edema - fluid IN the lungs. This is typically in the little alveoli, or air sacs, that are the site of gas exchange in the lung. Fluid in these prevents oxygen from being passed into circulating blood, and prevents carbondioxide from being passed out of circulating blood.
> 
> Hemoabdomen - blood in the abdomen.
> 
> Spleen - that annoying mofo that likes to rupture and bleeds all over the place. Also an important part of your immune system.
> 
> Zygoma - zygomatic arch, or Those Things We All Stare At When Benedict Cumberbatch or Tom Hiddleston Appear On The Screen (and I'm not talking about their crotch bulges, either). Cheekbones. 
> 
> Frontal - frontal bone. 
> 
> Clavicle - collarbone.
> 
> Tympanic membrane - ear drum.
> 
> Cochlea - the spiral cavity in the inner ear that contains the organ that sends nerve impulses in response to sound waves. Kinda important to the whole hearing thing.
> 
> Splenic artery and vein - these are the main blood vessels to the spleen, and they're huuuuuuuuuge. They go into the middle of the concave surface of the spleen, known as the 'splenic hilum'.
> 
> Short gastric arteries - these are arterial branches off the greater curvature of the stomach that join onto the spleen and provide it with blood.
> 
> Cranial - towards the head.
> 
> Pancreas - that really annoying organ that sits up right close to the spleen but is really important because pancreatic enzymes help you digest stuff.
> 
> IV - intra-venous line. It involves a plastic tube within a long needle that sits in the vein to enable venous delivery of drugs or fluids.
> 
> Crystalloids - really useful IV fluid that, according to my friend the vet nurse, is what you'd give in this situation. I haven't yet gone over fluid therapy and she's just done emergency fluid therapy. I'm still convinced this part of medicine is magic. It doesn't impact on clotting but helps replace blood volume lost. 
> 
> Xyphoid cartilage - cartilage flap at the end of the sternum. 
> 
> Umbilicus - fancy-pants word for belly button.
> 
> Linea alba - avascular (no blood vessels), non-innervated (no nerves) connective tissue between the two rectus abdominus muscles (the ones that turn into a six or eight pack when you work out).
> 
> Rectus abdominus muscle - the six pack muscles.
> 
> Splenophrenic ligament - ligament between the spleen and the diaphragm.
> 
> Splenocolic ligament - ligament between the spleen and the colon (large intestine).
> 
> Big bore IV lines - when you really want to dump fluids in fast, you get the wide lines (or 'big bore') out.
> 
> Thoracolumbar - thorax and lumbar (more or less).
> 
> STAT - fukken yesterday.
> 
> Inferior pole - the bottom bit of the spleen.
> 
> Splenorenal ligament - ligament between the spleen and the left kidney.
> 
> Splenectomy - spleen removal.
> 
> Dipill - Star Wars sedative (relaxes them).
> 
> Conergin - Star Wars general anaesthetic (knocks them out).
> 
> Blunt dissection - using force, rather than cutting, to separate or break something down.
> 
> Mesentery - A single layer of tissue that encloses a lot of the abdominal organs. It gets a bit more complicated than that, but that's it in a nutshell. 
> 
> Intramuscular, subcutaneous, and cutaneous - stitch up the muscle, stitch up the tissue between muscle and skin, stitch up the skin.
> 
> Packed RBCs - packed red blood cells to replace what's been lost. Once again, vet nurse suggested this, and I'm going with 'magic'.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to add a little note here.
> 
> Bones has the bed-side manner of a womp rat. Linta knows this. Linta tries to keep Bones from being bed-side, unless Linta does not like the person in the bed, then she lets Bones be bed-side. No, really. Take this as a warning. SHE'S REALLY NOT GOOD!
> 
> ALSO WARNING: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF BURNS AND AMPUTATION! I'm also pretty sure I forgot some blood vessels so ... CREATIVE LICENSE!
> 
> I've also tried capitalising nicknames. I may have missed some. Apologies.
> 
> Glossary at the end, as always.

Bones moves to table six, where Dirty Mo and his pinched eyes look up at her. “He needs more analgesic,” she says, and Jolan hands her the hypospray and capsule. She dials it and punches it into his neck. The man flinches.

“HR, RR, BP stable in normal range, don't ask me how. T10 to T12 have spiderweb fractures, no stabilisation needed. L1 to L3 have have comminuted fractures to spinous processes. L1 and L2 have stable fractures to transverse processes. L4 and L5 have spiderweb fractures to spinous, transverse, and body. Stable fracture on left clavicle, left ribs three and four, right rib nine. Blaster to right shoulder,” Jolan rattles off. Bones casts her eye over the bioscanner.

“You're a fucking miracle, Mo-face, you may yet walk,” she says down at the man. His eyes squeeze shut briefly. There's a gusty exhale from table eight, where bung-leg short-stack is propped up on pillows. “Give me stats on the leg.” She heads over to extra crispy.

“...the pilot...” he says. He sits on the bed, hands held loosely in front of him. He is naked, or at least, most of him is. His right side but for his arms and his medial right calf and lower thigh are stripped bare. His left side is a mess of burnt flesh and fabric. He has one IV line in his left ankle. The other IV line is in his right femoral vein, right up in his bared groin.

“ _How the fuck did he fly that ship_?” Bones breathes. The man's hands are covered in thickened third degree burns. His arms are slowly being peeled of fabric, skin clinging to the fibres even as it's being separated.

“Beats me,” Dart growls as he slowly, carefully, achingly peels the pilot's shirt away from his left torso.

“ _Shit_ ,” she says as she takes in the utter devastation that is the left side of his face. His left ear is gone. Grasping fingers of burn creep along his throat, down his mandible and towards his nose. Both eyebrows are well and truly singed off, as is half his hair. The rest will need to be shaved. If he had any other facial hair, it is long gone now. “You're another fucking miracle, you must have been exhaling as the blast hit,” she says.

He looks up at her, eyes wide and blank and _so terrified_. “I'm the pilot,” he says. The skin pulls tight over his lips. Bones' face pinches.

“We know, buddy, you're the pilot,” she says. His eyes spark, shutter, go distant once more. He looks past her.

“I'm the pilot,” he murmurs.

“When he's in bacta I want a detailed bioscan done of his brain, I want to know what's going on in there,” Bones says.

“Confirm, bioscan of brain during bacta,” Dart says, working down the man's left hip. The arms are nearly scraped clean of fabric. Davith's work.

Linta manoeuvres the now naked blast patient into bacta tank one. This room has the swanky set up where the bacta tanks lift up and hold horizontally so the tables can slide in to easily move fragile conditioned patients into and out of the bacta tanks. Human Wookie hovers anxiously nearby. “I thought I told you to sit,” Bones growls at him. He ignores her, or perhaps simply does not hear her. Her eyebrow twitches.

“Marm,” Jolan says. “No blood or nerve supply past mid-femur.” Bones takes a moment to breathe instead of swear.

“How bad is it?”

“Tissue is too far gone,” Jolan replies.

“ _Arse_ ,” she growls. “Prep bacta tank four at six hour. Get me a fucking bone saw.”

“ _What_ ,” Short-Stack says. She's pretty sure Dirty Mo makes a noise that quickly turns into a whimper of pain.

“Put him out and intubate, he's in next,” Bones says, gesturing to table six. “That's not going to heal, regardless of how much blood we pump into it. You want to die with your leg rotting off or you want a prosthetic that can fire frikkin lazerbeams?” she directs at Short-Stack. There's a hiss of a hypospray depressing and a noise of protest from table six. The girl on table eight looks horrified. Bones takes a deep breath. Bed-side manner was never her forte. One of the reasons why she never got into _sapient species medicine_. And, oh, look how well that turned out for her. She sends a mental glower in the vague direction of Mon Mothma. “The tissues in your leg haven't received any blood,” she says. “It's dying, and unless I remove the dying tissue, so will you.” The girl squares her shoulders and juts her chin.

“Don't put me out,” she says. Bones bares her teeth at her in a facsimile of a grin.

“Even with nerve loss, it's going to hurt,” she says. The girl sets her chin more firmly and her eyes _burn_.

“Don't put me out,” she repeats.

“Very well, short-stuff, let me make one side of you shorter,” Bones says. The girl bares her teeth back at her.

Jolan leaps into action as Bones begins her scrub in _again_. He cuts off the pant leg below the tourniquet and whips down the bioscanner. Grabs a mobile table, drops a small kit and a much larger kit on it, and starts to scrub the op site. He grabs a pen and marks a line, after further consultation with the bioscanner.

“Optimum site identified. This is above the nerve and vessel loss, but below the tourniquet. Blaster damage only cranial to tourniquet,” Jolan says. Thank the Force for good nurses. She finishes her scrub up.

“Spinal is out and intubated, stats stable,” Linta calls.

Bones turns to the girl on the table, now lying down and looking up at the ceiling, fingers clamped white-knuckle tight on the edges. “One benefit to having severed nerves is you're not actually going to feel most of this. The downside is we're dealing with _bone_ , and that _always_ hurts.” She eyeballs the leg, opens the smaller pouch, and picks out her scalpel. “Dial her another analgesic.” Jolan scrambles to obey. She digs her blade into white flesh and begins a clean slice around the leg. No blood wells up, and Bones shudders. It's too much like an autopsy for her liking. She inserts two cuts cranially along the anterior and posterior medial aspects almost to the marked line, and then continues around the leg laterally. She removes the excess lateral skin and reflects back the saved (and still attached) medial skin. The great and the lateral accessory saphenous veins are just deep to the skin. They're severed further down the leg, after the medial accessory saphenous bifurcation. She clamps and ligates them.

She cuts the rectus femoris mid-way down the thigh and reflects it back, searching for the cranial stump of the femoral artery and vein. Finds them, clamps them, and ligates them tightly. Finds, and ties off the deep femoral. Cuts the muscle right to the bone. Peels everything back hard up past the line.

The girl makes no noise.

“RR one hundred, HR one fourty, BP one twenty over eighty,” Jolan reads out.

“This is going to hurt,” Bones says, and activates the vibro-saw. Jolan places one hand on the girl's thigh, above the tourniquet, his fingers digging into flesh there. The other hand goes on the leg. It takes her two slices to get through the whole femur. This time the girl makes a noise. Strangled screams through pinched shut lips. Jolan removes the leg. “Worst part's over. Now it's just removing the dead tissue and covering it up with skin.”

It's the work of only a few minutes to cut back dead and dying muscle. Jolan undoes the tourniquet – a bantha-hide belt double wrapped around the upper thigh – just enough to permit some blood flow past it.

“Bleeders?” he asks. She pulls out the stubs of vessels and checks each one.

“None, good to release,” she says. The girl hisses through her teeth as blood flows to what little tissue is left of her legs that she can feel. Bones pulls the spare flap of medial thigh skin over the now slowly bleeding stump. Adjusts it minutely. Takes the scissors to it and evens off the edges so they align better with the existing skin. “I'll do this one, Jolan. Linta, prep spinal, get the nanoscaffolds out and scrub in, I'm going to need two pairs of hands for that,” Bones says.

“Confirm, prep spinal, nanoscaffolds, scrub in,” Linta repeats.

Bones clips toothed forceps to the edges of the skin to keep them stable and whips out her subcutaneous absorbable suture material. This is the time consuming bit. Picking up each bit of subcutaneous tissue on either side of the wound and carefully tightening the last stitch in a simple continuous stitch. By the time she's tied off the end, Linta has prepped spinal's entire back, has all the kit they could possibly need next to his table, and has scrubbed in.

“Jolan, you finish off with interrupted cruciates, I'm scrubbing in for _reconstruction_ ,” Bones says with a painfully cheerful lilt to her voice.

“Confirm, interrupted cruciates, then bacta tank,” Jolan says and steps up, taking a needle, suture material and scissors. He sets to work with neat cross stitches topped off with knots as Bones scrubs out, and then straight back in again.

Linta and Bones share a look. “I think we're going to need a cargo ship full of bantha shit to properly do this one justice,” Linta says cheerfully.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Analgesic - pain relief. Nothing to do with anal at all. (Sorry)
> 
> HR - heart rate  
> RR - respiratory rate  
> BP - blood pressure
> 
> Spiderweb fractures - really thin breaks in the bone that don't always go all the way through and can usually heal without needing to tutu with the bone.
> 
> Comminuted fractures - where a fracture site has 3+ complete breaks through the bone. This is not fun, and usually requires a lot of pins and metal.
> 
> Spinous process - the bit of the vertebra that sticks out your back. So when you're seeing someone's backbone under their skin, that's the spinous process of their vertebra.
> 
> Transverse process - these are the bits of the vertebra that stick out the side of each vertebra.
> 
> Body - this is the main 'body' of the vertebra, which articulate with each other. You've got the squishy disks between the body of each vertebra so there is some cushioning, because bone on bone DOESN'T work.
> 
> Stable fracture - clean break through, the bones are aligned though so as long as you strap it up good and the break edges don't shift, you don't have to re-set the bone.
> 
> Medial - towards the midline of the body (so your inside leg, inside upper arm, etc).
> 
> Lateral - away from the midline of the body (so your outside leg, outside upper arm, etc).
> 
> Mandible - jaw bone.
> 
> Femur - thigh bone.
> 
> Intubate - sticking in a breathing tube. This is super important for surgeries, where anaesthetics depress breathing, so oxygen needs to be supplied to ensure adequate blood oxygen saturation.
> 
> Cranial - towards the head.
> 
> Anterior - towards the front.  
> Posterior - towards the back.  
> Cranially along the anterior and posterior medial aspects - this is a complicated way of saying she makes a cut up the front inside and the back inside leg, keeping most of the inside leg tissue.
> 
> Reflects - folds back. Yes, we really do use fancy words to describe folding back tissue.
> 
> Great, Lateral Accessory and Medial Accessory Saphenous veins - superficial (so between the skin and the muscle) veins that run along the front / middle aspect of the thigh. The lateral accessory saphenous vein is a branch off the great - it runs laterally towards the back of the thigh. The medial accessory saphenous vein is a branch further down the track - it runs medially towards the back of the thigh.
> 
> Bifurcation - split / branch / fork. WE LOVE FANCY WORDS YES WE DO!
> 
> Ligate - tie up a blood vessel.
> 
> Rectus femoris - big muscle along the front of your thigh.
> 
> Femoral artery and vein - REALLY fucking BIG blood vessels that you will bleed out of very very quickly.
> 
> Deep femoral - a branch of the femoral artery that runs beneath a lot of muscles. 
> 
> Simple continuous stitch - like it says, it's simple and it's continuous, and it's suitable for suturing up subcutaneous tissue. There's no muscle here to stitch, so there's no need to stitch that up. Suturing up the subcutaneous tissue just helps to keep the epidermis / cutaneous tissue / skin together (different words for the same thing, WELCOME TO ANATOMY WHERE THE HEPATOPANCREATIC HOLE INTO THE SMALL INTESTINE IS ALSO CALLED THE AMPULLA OF VATER, AND YOU HAVE SEVEN DIFFERENT NAMES FOR THE SAME FUCKING MUSCLE).
> 
> Interrupted cruciates - this is a really good way of keeping skin together. This is used for cutaneous suturing - you are basically making individual cross-shaped stitches with knots tied on top. You don't use continuous stitch for cutaneous sutures because if one pops, goodbye everything. A lot of people use simple interrupted stitches. I just like cruciates. They take a bit longer to do, but they hold more skin together.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay we're starting to get a little lighter on the jargon here. 
> 
> In fact, so much so that I don't think I need a glossary!
> 
> Still with the bedside manner of a womp rat.

It takes eight hours to put the jigsaw that is Baby Fuzz's vertebrae back together. Human Wookie and Shorter-Stack have both gone through their first bacta tank cycle. Shorter-Stack watches the last of the operation with knife-sharp eyes. Human Wookie stands vigil next to Splenectomy's tank, his body angled to keep both the man and the majority of the room in his vision at all times.

Dart rests his head against Extra Crispy's tank and possibly cries a little. Bones is quite sure the pilot is still saying “I'm the pilot” into the breathing apparatus.

He can't seem to stop.

At some stage during the op her communicator had buzzed, but Jolan had taken it and brushed them off. Now, with the last of her patients in the bacta tank, Bones sits ( _at last_ , her legs scream). She stares at her hands. Past her hands, to the floor. A mug appears.

“Caf,” Linta says. Her fingers move to grab the mug and she sucks half of it down in one go.

“I knew I kept you 'round for a reason,” Bones grumbles, clutching her precious black goo close to her chest. She looks up and catches the eye of Shorter-stack. “So,” she drawls. “How'd this all happen?” The girl's jaw clenches.

“A few explosions here and there,” she replies. Bones' eyes narrow.

“No shit,” she says. “Some light shooting, too?” The girl nods. Her eyes are hard. Bones sighs and runs a hand down her face. Takes another sip of her coffee.

“Well, you're going to be spending a lot of time in my domain over the next few weeks, the lot of you, so hit me with names,” she says.

The girl blinks. The tension drips out of her shoulders.

It's quiet in the med room now. Just the comforting _beep beep_ of multiple heart monitors and the hiss of respirators. The murmur of the nurses as they pour over datapads.

“I'm Jyn,” she finally says. “Jyn Erso.”

“Nice to meet you, Jyn. I'm Bones,” she replies and tries for a friendly smile. She's not sure how well it goes, but Jyn doesn't recoil in fear so she assumes it's close enough to friendly to be acceptable.

As it turns out, Baby Fuzz is a Rebel Alliance Captain by the name of Cassian Andor. Clearly not usually stationed at Alliance HQ, or, if he was, not normally one to get injured. Or special attention.

Only special people got sent to Bones.

They're part of Rogue One. She remembers that much. The pilot, Extra Crispy, is an Imperial defector by the name of Bodhi Rook. Apparently he came like that, broken in the head, quietly repeating “I am the pilot” at odd times. Twitching at silence. Bones files that away for future investigation.

Human Wookie and Splenectomy are from NiJedha (that was), being one Baze Malbus and Chirrut Îmwe respectively. Baze doesn't talk. Bones watches him.

They had gone to Scarif to recover plans for the Death Star, the _planet killer_ , the great new Imperial weapon. They'd succeeded. The plans had been transmitted to the Rebel Alliance ships in orbit, and somehow, Bodhi had managed to steal an Imperial Delta-class ship, pick them up, and get them off the planet and into hyperspace just in time to avoid death by Death Star.

“Bit on the nose, that name,” Linta comments. “I mean, couldn't they have thought of something a bit less … blatant?”

“Well at least you know what it does,” Bones replies. “It's a star for death-ing things.” Baze and Jyn look at her incredulously.

“Once she's not in med-brain mode it's all gone,” Linta explains. Bones shoots her a glare, quaffs the last of her caf, and stalks over to Baze.

“I know my nurses have tended to your blaster wounds, but I'd like to have a quick look at you myself before I call it a night,” she says. He looks down at her but nods. She pushes his shirt to the side, exposing freshly pinked scar tissue splashed across his clavicle. Pushes it further to examine the edges and probe the tissue around it. Satisfied the flesh is suitably solid, Bones pulls the shirt back to his neck, and lifts the hem of his shirt up. “I'm going to have to pull your pants down a bit to inspect the damage,” she says. He grunts in reply. She grabs the waist of his pants and tugs it, exposing more pink scar tissue across his hip. She probes the area. Pulls the pants back up and lets the hem of his shirt fall.

“Touch your left index finger to my finger,” she says. He lifts his arm and does so. “Now touch your nose,” she says. He does so. She moves her finger to the left. “Repeat,” she says. He does so. She moves her finger to the right. “Repeat,” she says. He does so. “Good. Now hold my finger and squeeze as hard as you can,” she says. He does so. “Good. Now hold your arm out front. I'm going to push down. I want you to hold your arm in exactly this spot.” The exercises go on, testing each muscle group in turn. She then repeats this for his leg.

“I would discharge you, but I get the feeling you won't leave,” Bones finally says. He looks down at her and his eyes soften. “That's fine, I'll keep you in for observation as long as Splenect – sorry, Chirrut – is here. We'll get you all some new clothes so you don't get any more sand in your arsecracks.” Baze snorts.

“Right, ladies, gents, I'm out,” Bones says, flicking a quick salute to her nurses. “Fuck off to sleep. I'll be back before anyone gets out of the tanks.” She leaves to a chorus of “night, boss,”.

She manages to sleep for less than three hours, most of it fitful. Eventually she gives up. Puts fresh scrubs on, a white lab coat, jams her feet into shoes and flips her stethoscope around her neck. She's at med room eight before she realises where her feet are taking her.

Dart is still there, watching the pilot. Bodhi. Bodhi Rook. Baze has sat down with his back pressed against the bottom of the bacta tank. Someone has given him new clothes. He clings to a staff.

Cassian is still in the bacta tank. His body has turned to face Jyn's bed. She's asleep, her own body tipped in his direction. Their arms seem to reach out towards one another. Bones makes a note of that. She'll move Jyn to a bed closer to the tank, where she can lie on her right and not apply pressure to her still healing stump.

She goes over to where Dart stands vigil over the pilot's pod.

“How's he doing?” she murmurs.

“Improving well,” Dart replies, keeping his voice low. “Although he may be permanently deaf in his left ear. There is some burning to the area around the burst tympanic membrane. I'm not sure it will heal, even in the bacta tank.” Bones nods. “He should still have some, if not all, tactile sensation in his fingers, but I'm not sure about the backs of his hands. The burns are extensive.”

“He'll be relieved to know he is still the pilot,” Bones says. She watches Bodhi's lips form the words beneath his breathing mask. His mantra. _I am the pilot, I am the pilot, I am the pilot_.

Dart lets out a shuddering sigh. “I think he's going to need a lot of bacta tank time. Probably a lot more than we will be allowed to give him.”

“If anyone pressures you, or anyone else in here, you let me know,” Bones says. “They're important enough people to get to me. They're important enough people to use bacta tank time on.” Dart gives her a wobbly smile.

“Then I'd like to recommend seven days of once daily six hour treatments, followed by a week of once every other day two hour treatments as needed,” Dart says.

“I think I will follow your recommendation, Dart. Please note it on his file. He can be discharged after the first week, but I don't want him out of this ward until we've managed to get at least another twenty four hours in the tank into him.” Dart smiles, properly this time, and adds the treatment regime to the datapad in his hand.

“And finally, about the brain scans...” Dart begins, and the smile is gone once more. “I don't know what to make of them. All I can tell you is that they're _abnormal_. You'll need better kit than what we've got to run any further diagnostics.” Bones raises her eyebrows. He hands her the datapad. She looks at the brain scans for a moment. Looks up at the pilot in bacta. Looks back down at the brain scans.

“This shit's whack. I don't know how the fuck he's functioning, let alone piloting. What the fuck does _that_?” she hisses.

“I _don't know_ ,” Dart whispers back. “What I do know is the bacta won't be able to do a damn thing, and neither can we.”

“We don't have any neuro specialists on tap, do we?”

“Not even a psychologist,” Dart replies.

“Fuck.” Bones breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth. “I'll keep an eye on him. Raise this with Linta as well, she needs to know. She's better at this -” Bones gestures to the pilot “- bedsidey helpy thing than I am,” she finishes off lamely.

“I'll give her his read outs as soon as she's up and about. He's due out in a few minutes, then we'll need to bandage him up. Would you like to help?” he asks. Bones huffs a laugh.

“And leave you with all the fun of creating a walking mummy? No way. Besides, we're going to need to do a lot of bandaging on this boy, and many hands make light work,” she says. “I can't even get him any pants until he's a bit more recovered, poor lad.” Dart begins to gather up the cut-your-own-size bacta gauze, tape, and bandage wrap. “He's a mess,” Bones says, placing a hand against the glass of his tank. “I still don't know how he managed to pilot that ship.”

The tank hisses and begins the draining process. They'd had to put him in totally nude, foregoing the usual 'bacta nappies' in favour of healing the third degree burns splattered all down his left side, hip, and lateral leg. He starts to twitch. Bones narrows her eyes.

“Dart, hit the emergency evac, _now_ ,” she says just as the pilot's hand crashes into the glass. Dart leaps to the panel and the bacta drops out. The glass lifts and Bones is there, shoving her hands under his armpits to stop him from falling. She gets an elbow to her nose for her troubles, but she hangs on.

“Hey, hey, Bodhi, _you're the pilot_ , it's okay,” she says, hauling him bodily away from the bacta tank and under the shower. The pilot has ripped the breather from his face and is taking wide-mouthed gasps. His eyes are far-seeing, lids peeled back to show the whites all around his pupil. “It's okay, Bodhi, you're the pilot, you're safe.” Dart turns the water on. Bones holds the pilot under the spray, turning him around so it hits the back of his now bald head and not his burnt ear. Or his face. It wouldn't do to have him aspirate water at this stage in the game.

“I'm the pilot,” he mumbles. His hands go limp at his side.

“You're the pilot,” she reaffirms as she gets the shower spray in her face and eyes. “You're the pilot.” She blinks the water away. Slowly removes her hands from his armpits. He stays standing under the spray. She slicks her hair back out of her face and grimaces when she realises her hands are covered in _bacta_ , and now her hair is.

“Shit,” she says and scrabbles for a piece of gauze. He's also ripped out his femoral IV line. She clamps her thumb over gauze onto the hole in his thigh. “Sorry about this, Bodhi,” she says, looking up at him. He flushes as he stares down at her. “You pulled out your IV line, and I can't ask you to hold pressure on this yourself. You've got very badly burnt hands right now.”

He opens his mouth. Closes it again. Clenches his jaw and looks straight ahead while the flush climbs the right side of his neck and face. And, yep, it also spreads to his chest.

“And, er, hi,” Bones says, readjusting her hands so she can apply more pressure to the site without needing to grip his upper thigh _quite_ as much. “I'm Bones. I'm your treating physician here at the Alliance base on Yavin Four. You piloted the ship that brought you and your friends back to HQ and saved their lives by getting them here so quickly.” He nods along with her, eyes carefully locked on the wall behind her.

“Yes,” he says. “I know, I did it.” He turns around to look. Baze stares back. Nods. Jyn watches him from her bed. “We all made it then?” his head snaps back to focus intently on Bones. “Chirrut is okay?”

“You made it here in time. At this stage, we're confident Chirrut will make an operational recovery. If we're lucky, he'll make a full one.”

Bodhi shakes his head, raises his hand to touch his ear.

“Please don't touch the side of your head,” Bones says, reaching her spare hand up to touch the unburned inside of his wrist. Bodhi's lips draw into a depreciating grin.

“I know, I lost my hearing in the blast,” he says. His hand drops to his side again.

“Why don't we get you all cleaned up of bacta and you can tell me all about how you got here while we bandage you up, hey?” Bones says as Dart grabs some tape and slaps it on over the top of some more gauze to maintain pressure. She gently guides Bodhi back into the water spray. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, letting water run over his face and front. The bacta sloughs off. Bones shuts off the shower. “This way, please,” she says, and he follows her to the nearest table. She pulls out a couple of towels and a loose butt-gaping hospital gown. Dart comes around the other side of the table and picks up a towel. She shucks off her lab coat, the arms and front now well soaked from water and bacta.

“We'll quickly pat dry you down and then you can get this hospital gown on. We're going to have to bandage you up and I can't give you any pants – even loose ones – until you've had a few more sessions in the bacta tank,” Bones explains, beginning to gently pat down his hands. Dart starts at the feet. Bodhi flushes. He looks straight ahead, arms held very carefully so as not to pull the barely healing and very painful burns across his left shoulder and torso, as they pat him dry. Bones helps him slide the hospital gown over his burns. She leaves it gaping at the neck, but buttons up some of the back. She doesn't want to agitate the third degree burns to the left side of his neck and head.

“If you stand there, we'll get to work bandaging you up. So how'd you get these incredibly impressive burns?” she asks.

“They threw a grenade,” he says. He looks at his fingers. The backs of his hands are twisted, melted flesh. The fronts are still blistered and sore. Everything is swollen. Cracks in his skin ooze. “So I picked it up and threw it back out.” Bones stops, hands over the bacta gauze.

“That would explain it,” she replies, evenly, carefully. Her fingers dig into the gauze as she picks it up. “Let's start with your hands, shall we?” she says lightly, holding up a pair of scissors and a small patch of gauze. “I'm going to put this on the back of your hand and then cut up around the fingers so I can wrap each finger from the top. I'll make two of these, so one goes on the back of your hand, and one goes on the front, and then we'll start turning you into a mummy.” She smiles and Bodhi's lips twitch in what could almost be amusement.

They get to work.

Dart begins from the feet once more, slapping bacta gauze and taping it down on his lateral left leg and medial right knee and thigh. He segments the gauze at the joints, allowing some degree of mobility without pulling the gauze out of alignment. Works his way up Bodhi's hip - “I'm sorry for the tape in such an awkward place, but it needs to happen,” - and up his torso.

Bones painstakingly wraps up each individual digit, first with gauze (using a bit of tape around the gauze to keep it in place), then with bandage wrap. She covers his arms with gauze, his shoulder. Finally, she works up his neck, mandible, across his cheek and lateral supraorbital ridge. Up and over his left ear. She carefully tapes the gauze in place across his zygomatic arch. It's over first degree burns, but they're considerably more healed, and these third degree need the treatment. They wrap up his torso and his arms. His left leg and his right knee and thigh. They leave his neck and shoulder clear of bandages.

Bodhi peers down at himself, sticking out from the hospital gown, and breathes what could almost be a chuckle. “I do look like a mummy, don't I?” he says.

“I'm quite pleased with my work,” Bones says, taking a step back and dusting her hands on her scrubs. “And I don't know about you, but I'm pretty bloody hungry. I'll get some food delivered. Stew sound alright to you?” Bodhi looks up and nods.

“Haven't eaten in a while,” he admits.

“We haven't had the time,” Jyn replies. She's sitting up in her bed. Baze watches them over his knees.

“Stew and some bread it is. Jyn, you want some caf?” She shakes her head. “Baze?” He dismisses the suggestion with a flick of his fingers. “And sorry, Bodhi, you can have caf in a few days but I don't want to stress your kidneys right now.” Bodhi shrugs, then winces.

She turns to Dart. “Could you get one of the privates to bring us some hot stew, ideally one of the ones with meat in it, and some bread, a caf for me and a whatever-you're-drinking-today for you.” Dart nods and potters off to find his communicator. “It'll be here shortly.”

“I didn't realise they did food delivery,” Jyn comments. Bones bares her teeth in a smile.

“They do for med, when there are patients that need it. We have a fairly early discharge policy here, so most patients get their own food at the mess like everyone else,” Bones says. “So when we put an order in, it's because we need it.”

“They'll be down shortly,” Dart says.

Bones hops up on the table behind her, legs dangling over the edge and swinging. “Fuck I forgot how cold these are,” she says, looking down at the durasteel of the table.

“Yeah, we know,” Jyn comments wryly. Bones shoots a glance her way but remains on the table. She turns her attention to the pilot who anxiously scans the room.

“Bodhi, I want you to stay standing and moving around slowly just until you've eaten and digested a bit, then we'll get you on your bed. I don't want you flexing and pulling those burns, so we'll lower you down straight and then get you up on the bed,” Bones says. Bodhi watches her. Nods.

“Okay,” he says. His eyes return to flitting over every available surface, analysing the contents of the room.

She doesn't say it out loud, but she certainly says a very emphatic _shit_ in her head. She's not sure how much of the brain-mushing is to blame for this extreme level of anxiety – the poor man is practically vibrating out of his crispy skin with nerves.

She picks up the datapad assigned to recording the medical treatment of Bodhi Rook. Flicks through. “Okay, Bodhi, I'm going to give you some pain relief and then I'm going to give you a _very_ light sedative,” she says. Bodhi twitches and stares at her with wide eyes. “It's not going to make you slow or fuzzy,” she says. “This is just to keep your heart rate and respiratory rate in check.” He still flinches away from her when she picks up the hypospray and cannisters. She flattens her lips. “I'm pretty sure your friends would kill me if I did anything bad to you.”

Bodhi glances at Baze and Jyn. His lips quirk. “I suppose you're right,” he concedes. Bones clips the analgesic in and carefully depresses it into his neck. Shucks the analgesic cannister and clips in the dipill cannister. She dials it right down. 0.5mL per kg. Just enough to take the edge off, but not enough to really slow him down. He watches her carefully as she depresses this one into his neck as well. She puts the hypospray and cannisters away in the cupboard. Hops back up on the table beside Bodhi.

Dart opens the door and accepts the trolley of food, pulling it carefully into the room and shutting the door behind him. Baze clambers to his feet and accepts the bowl of thick stew. Grabs a bread roll and takes a bite. Humms his pleasure. Sits back down with his back against the bacta tank.

Jyn accepts her bowl stew and bread roll. She blows on the stew for a moment before raising the bowl to her lips. Her eyes close in pleasure.

Bodhi takes his bowl of stew but rejects the bread roll – Bones puts it on a plate next to hers to see if she can cajole him into eating it. She takes a sip of her own and purrs in delight. It's a good stew today. They must have caught something suitably meaty, and the cooks are bloody Force-gifted with spices. They know how to stretch virtually nothing to feed an army _and make it taste good_.

Body clutches his bowl in two thickly swathed hands. He fumbles with it.

“Ah,” Bones says. She sets her own bowl down, slides off the table, and plucks the bowl from Bodhi's hands, carefully. He looks at her mournfully. “I'm sorry, I should have thought,” she says. She places the bowl on the table, grabs a spoon and a cloth, and hops back up. Beckons him closer (he complies). She picks up the spoon, dips it in the stew at her side, and carefully guides the spoon towards Bodhi. Her eyes crinkle. “I promise I won't make X-wing sounds,” she says. Bodhi barks out a laugh. His eyes brighten. He wraps his lips about the spoon shaft and sighs as the stew hits his tongue.

Bones smiles. Retracts the spoon and dips it again. “It's good, isn't it?” she says.

“It's very good,” Bodhi agrees.

“That's because we have amazing cooks,” she replies, bringing the spoon to his lips again. He humms. She begins tearing up his bread roll and soaking it in stew. Scoops it up onto the spoon and offers it to him. He smiles at that, and his eyes crinkle in the corners.

He begins to relax as the dipill and stew work their magic. Bones notices when his shoulders start to ease down and back, when his face loses that pinched look. When the corners of his mouth relax. She breathes an internal sigh of relief and continues spooning the last of the stew into him. She should have thought earlier. Should have realised. With fingers bandaged like that, he couldn't possibly hold a bowl, let alone a bread bun.

She picks up her own stew, now lukewarm, and dunks her bread bun in it. There are big chunks of some unidentifiable meat. She picks them up with bits of bread and pops them in her mouth, chewing in delight, mopping up the last of the stew with the last of her bun. Dart comes around and takes the empty bowls away and deposits a mug of caf on the table next to Bones. She takes a long drink.

Bodhi's eyelids are drooping and his lips are slack by the time Dart is back.

“Alright, buddy, let's get you into bed,” Bones says and hops back off the table, sliding her hand between Bodhi's arm and torso and guiding him with gentle pressure to the undamaged inside of his upper arm. He moves with her to the side of the room, where the beds are positioned. Dart puts the rails down on both sides of the bed and cranks it down until it is just over a metre off the floor. “Now, we're going to do something a little odd here,” she says, turning to face Bodhi. “I don't want you flexing your hip at all for a few more days yet, so I'm going to hold you under your armpits and you're going to hold yourself completely straight while we lower you to the floor – don't worry, Dart will have your legs so you won't slip. Then we're going to lift you up, and I'll need you to tense your muscles up so you stay straight again, and put you on the bed.” Bodhi nods and smiles. His eyebrows are relaxed. “Okay, turn around.” He does. Bones puts her hands up beneath his armpits. “Let yourself lean back,” she says, and he does. She takes his weight. “Now all you need to do is keep your body straight, we'll do the rest,” she says, and begins to slowly step backwards and lower him to the ground.

Dart holds his legs _around_ the burnt bits, which is a lot easier said than done.

Even with her hands under his armpits by the time Bodhi is flat on his back on the floor, he is wincing in pain. “I'll get you some more pain relief to help you sleep, we've just got to get you up on the bed now. This is going to hurt a bit, because I'm going to have to hold you around your shoulders, and Dart needs to get your legs, but it will be over quickly. You just keep yourself straight.”

This time when Bodhi nods he does not smile, but rather grits his teeth. “Okay, I'm going to count to three and then we lift, so be ready,” Bones warms, her arms looping under his armpits, face alongside his as she braces herself. “One, two, three!” Bones lifts and Bodhi doesn't scream or cry out, but it is a near thing. They retract their hands the moment his back hits the cushioned bed. Bones grabs the hypospray, clips in the sedative, and gives him a slightly higher dose.

“You okay there, Bodhi?” she asks, touching the inside of his wrist. He looks at her and nods, lips still clamped tightly. “Okay, I'd like you to try to get some sleep. I'll be here, and so will Jyn, and so will Baze, so you can relax.” She pats his wrist and moves away. Bodhi closes his eyes. In moments his body is limp and breathing slow.

Bones makes a beeline for Dart, a scowl on her face. “Not that I don't like spending time with you, but didn't I tell you to fuck off to sleep?” she says, planting her hands on her hips and staring down the (now sheepish) nurse.

“Yes, boss,” he says.

She points at the door. “Fuck the fuck off to sleep,” she says. He quickly puts down the data pad and flees.

Jyn snorts. “You, too,” Bones says, turning to level the young woman with a Look. “I have sedatives and I'm more than happy to knock you out for some peace and quiet.” Jyn looks like she's struggling not to smile. Baze's eyes twinkle with mirth. “Oh, I'm not joking,” she says and picks up a hypospray. Jyn promptly looks to the roof and closes her eyes. Baze's eyes keep twinkling, but he turns them away.

“Good.” She picks up her caf and a datapad and starts going through _all the fucking paperwork_.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO this chapter comes with a SPECIAL swear warning because of the use of the 'c' word immediately following 'shit'. It's one of my favourite swears.
> 
> Also gratuitous use of the word 'fuck'. 
> 
> I lived in Sydney for three years, where the 'c' word is used as both a compliment and an insult, and in fact can be used for both in the same sentence. Since then it's kinda fallen into my swearing language and it alarms the shit out of people.
> 
> Also, theory of why this shit happens at the bottom.

There are many theories as to why Bones joined the Rebellion, and more of why she received such preferential treatment.

The intake officer had looked at her in surprise when she'd arrived. “Why do you want to join the Rebellion?” he'd asked.

“Because the Imperials are cockbites,” she'd snarled, and pushed her way past. (The intake officer had written it down, and 'cockbite' promptly became the Swear Of The Month.)

There was the theory that she was Mon Mothma's Long Lost Evil Twin Sister. That was Bones' favourite. There were the more outrageous ones – where she was the one who single handedly took down a Star Destroyer by hypospraying the captain, taking his place, and driving the ship into a planet.

The truth, however, is much simpler.

Mon Mothma was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Many years ago, during the Clone Wars, Mon Mothma and Senator Tor were tasked with securing diplomatic ties with many of the outer rim planets. On one such planet, on one such task, on one such day, she stood up, and took a blast through the chest that would have otherwise gone straight through Senator Tor's head.

They were days from anywhere, on a bantha-drawn cart (their bantha had received a large cut to its foot, and so the whole procession had stopped to allow the veterinarian to treat it), the medics had scratched their heads and said “we can't do anything without a bacta tank”.

The veterinarian overheard.

“ _Like shit you can't_ ,” were the first words that endeared Mon Mothma to the angry young woman, already then going by the name 'Bones'. “Fucking useless piece of shitcunt doctors,” the woman had growled as she clambered up onto the cart. One of the medics was pushed off the edge as she shoved people aside to get to Mon Mothma, who was gasping for air that would never arrive in her lungs. Reaching the dying woman, the tiny mud-splattered girl had spun around with a snarl. “Fuck the fuck off you useless fucks,” she'd said, before grabbing her kit, throwing it open, and turning to Mon Mothma.

Mon Mothma had survived to reach a bacta tank. The veterinarian was long gone by the time she'd been released from medical, but that didn't stop her hunting.

It wasn't until after the Clone Wars that Mon Mothma succeeded in locating her.

“I owe you my lungs,” she had said by way of explanation.

“Yeah, well, keep breathing and we'll call it square,” Bones had fired back.

They'd left it at that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, my theory is that doctors have gotten lazy with all the fancy bacta tanks and bacta bandages and bacta this and that and automated shit, whereas veterinarians don't have that luxury. No one can afford a bacta tank for a fucking bantha. So while docs are going 'HERPADERP IT GON THRU HER WE NEED TANK KUZ BANDAGES WON'T DO IT AND OH NO WAT WE DO SHE CAN'T BREATHE' the veterinarian is already intubating and scraping bacta off a bandage to smear in the hole.
> 
> Because, damnit, we don't get fancy shit when we're on goddamn farms. We have to work with what we've got.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pre-emptive apology note: the next update is probably not going to be for WEEKS. I, sadly, have adult shit I have to attend to this weekend, and then I'm running a dairy farm (JESUSTAKETHEWHEEL) for eight straight days. So yeah. I won't be alive for some time.
> 
> Also I don't actually know what a tree goat looks like but I'm pretty sure anything described as a cross between a goat and a sloth would look fucking hilarious mildly electrocuted.
> 
> Glossary at the end.

Bones is awakened by the feeling of a mug being pushed into her hand. She's fallen asleep at a desk – clearly not hers, as she's had hers raised to just the right height for vaguely comfortable emergency naps. She makes a noise of protest and raises her head. She knows there's a print of her scrubs material on her cheek. She wipes the drool off the side of her face.

“We'll be taking Cassian out of the bacta tank shortly,” Linta says. Bones grunts and runs a hand through her hair. She wonders why it's crusty for a moment before she remembers _oh yeah, bacta goo_. She grimaces and takes a long sip from the mug. It's tar-like caf, just the way she likes it, and she can almost feel life returning to her limbs.

She runs her hand down her face. Grimaces even more when she feels crusty bacta wipe off and onto her nose. Linta shoves a wet wipe in her hand and Bones gratefully scrubs her face, and then her hands, and then rubs it over her hair.

“You look like an electrocuted tree goat,” Linta comments. Bones shoots her a glare and slicks her hair back with the wet wipe. Linta smiles back. “You can hold him while I shower him and we'll get him onto a bed for a quick scan.” Bones sighs and stands up. Stretches her fingers skyward onto her tip toes. Twists her back this way and that and _almost_ winces at the cracks it makes. Shakes her fingers out. Finishes her caf in three long gulps.

“Right, let's get this shitshow on the road,” she says. She potters over to the side and pulls towels and a hospital gown out of the cupboard, placing them on the table next to bacta tank three. The tank hisses and the bacta begins to drain. Cassian's feet touch the ground as the bacta drains and he remains upright while the tank lifts off. Bones steps up and removes his breathing mask. His eyes open. Slowly. “I'm going to move you forward and we're going to shower this bacta off you,” she says, and pulls him forward. His legs move. Slowly, jerkily, he takes a step. His leg doesn't take his weight, and for the second time that cycle, Bones finds herself shoving her hands into bacta goo-ed armpits and taking all the weight.

Cassian makes a noise, confusion, protest, she's not entirely sure but it's not a happy one. Jyn sits up and watches them, her eyes drinking him in.

“That's okay, that's to be expected. You'll be out of the tanks for twelve hours to allow this to settle and then back in for another twelve, and we'll start working your legs after that,” Bones explains. He can at least move his legs while she moves him to the shower. Linta turns the spray on, and once again Bones gets spray to the face and shoulders.

At least scrubs dry _really fucking quickly_.

It's the work of a moment to have Cassian stripped of the bacta goo, the hospital gown on, and the bacta diaper off. He's almost completely conscious by the time they're moving him to his new bed. Situated right next to Jyn's. Bones knows that look, knows it well from loved ones and lovers as they visit the injured. Linta helps Cassian get his legs up on the bed while Bones holds his upper body, then slowly lowers his back to the bed.

“Don't sit up,” Bones says, looking down at Cassian. He looks back at her. The sedative still drags at the backs of his eyes. His face is an open book. She pulls the bioscanner down over his bed and checks the read outs. She talks to him around that. “You have scaffolding on your vertebrae to ensure they stay in the right place while it all heals. The bone has begun to knit, but it is a long way from being usable. I want to keep you numb from the shoulders down, -” Jyn makes a somewhat alarmed noise behind her, - “but Linta won't let me. So no twisting, turning, sitting up, _getting up_ , even if you need to pee so badly you're going to wet the damn bed, and no flailing arms or legs.” Bones leans over his table and stares down at him. “Understood, Captain?” she asks.

“Understood,” he replies, his voice a low croak.

“Good.” She steps back and turns to Jyn. “If he tries anything, yell. If he moves too much he could displace the splinters of bone and cause more nerve damage. If he doesn't, he may yet walk unassisted. We won't know until we're a few more bacta rounds in and the swelling is down.” Jyn nods, her face getting that look of steely determination that Bones is _already_ becoming familiar with.

“I'll be sure to make a fuss if he tries anything stupid,” Jyn says. Cassian tilts his head to one side to look at her and huffs. Bones removes herself from between the two beds. Cassian's arm slowly lifts away from his side, inching closer and closer to the end of the bed. Jyn sits up and leans over to grasp his hand.

Bones averts her gaze. It's a private moment.

She settles herself back into the corner desk with a datapad and another cup of caf, courtesy of the ever psychic Linta.

Linta potters about, offering Baze a cup of tea (he declines), checking up on the still sleeping Bodhi, and giving Jyn and Cassian a bit of privacy in the open cavern of med room eight.

It's quiet.

Too quiet.

Bones almost expects it when the beeping comes. Baze leaps up. Linta is already moving. Bones throws the data pad onto the desk at the same time that she leaps over it. She hits the ground running.

“No time, get him on the ground, get the crash cart!” Bones shouts. Baze slams his hands on the glass tank.

“What's happening?” he yells. Linta hits the vertical emergency drain switch and runs off to get the crash cart.

“ _Move_ ,” Bones snarls at him, and Baze does. The tank drains. She yanks open the bottom and starts pulling Chirrut out of the tank by his ankles. She slides him to the floor as Linta starts charging the defibrillator. Bones scrubs the bacta off his right chest and left torso with a cloth. “Adjust for bacta.” She holds her hands out to one side and the adhesive pads are placed in them. She rips off the backing and slaps them on Chirrut's chest. “Clear,” she calls, rocking back on her heels to make sure she's not in bacta, too.

“Active,” Linta says. They hear the whine as the charge builds. The two beeps. Then the body spasms and another beep. “Hold,” Linta says. Bones hovers. “Normal rhythm achieved, off,” Linta says, and Bones pounces. Whips out her stethoscope and listens. She physically sags in relief when she hears the comforting _lub-dub lub-dub_ of a normally beating heart.

“Oxygen, then let's get him up on the table and scan him,” she says, standing up and turning to Baze. “We was in ventricular fibrillation. We don't know why yet.” Baze nods at her, his eyes shuttered. His face is pinched. His lips downturned. His fingers clutch the staff to his chest. “Can you help us get him onto the table?” He nods again. Sets the staff to one side and picks Chirrut up with such a tenderness that Bones has to look away.

Jyn sits on the edge of Cassian's bed, their fingers tangled together as they watch their friend being moved.

Bodhi continues to sleep. Bones is deeply relieved she sedated him.

Chirrut is on the table when Bones turns around. Baze stands over his head and stares Bones down. “If you get in the way, I will hurt you,” she says. A compromise. He nods.

Linta is there with a new breathing mask and a tank of oxygen. “I had to crack a new tank,” she says as she presses the mask to Chirrut's face. Bones cracks the bioscanner down and runs through the readouts.

“No structural or electrical abnormalities detected,” she says. “We'll be able to get that neck brace off him after another twelve hour dip. No haemoabdomen. No haemothorax. Pulmonary oedema significantly decreased. The nose is never going to be as pretty as it was, but it's healing well. Zygoma and frontal spiderweb fractures are healing – no cerebral _anything_ thank _fuck_. Tympanic membrane and cochlea are healing, we'll have to see how that goes.” She pushes the bioscanner back up. Looks at Baze. “At this point in time, I cannot tell you how much hearing he will have in his left ear, but I expect, as long as he doesn't pull this shit again, he will make a complete recovery.”

Baze takes a long breath in. Lets it out slowly. Looks down at Chirrut. Says nothing. Bones understands, anyway.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ventricular fibrillation - this is where the ventricles contract out of rhythm with the atria. So hearts are cool things. They relax and blood fills them (from the body being deoxygenated blood and from the lungs being oxygenated blood). Then the atria fill and contract and shoot that last bit of blood into the ventricles to make sure they're nice and full so they can pump that blood through the body or the lungs. So your ventricles could beat when they're only half full, and then you've only got half the amount of blood going through, and the atria is going OHGOD WHAT'S GOING ON WTF or they could beat when the atria is contracting and then you've got gates open all up in this joint and pressure problems and it all gets bad really quickly.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this chapter was a bit forced. I wrote it for three reasons. One, it allowed me to introduce a character in a particular light. Two, it allowed me to develop a few key characters more (see next chapter for Linta, because she is just awesomesauce). And thirdly, because timeline wise it was either 'do this now or never'. 
> 
> So because it was driven by ME, rather than by Bones, it doesn't quite ... flow or sit as nicely. 
> 
> Also, read next chapter ASAP so you get the full effect. (I really can't make myself post a chapter with scene changes / perspective changes in it, thus these two short-stack chapters.)
> 
> ALSO also apparently as soon as I say 'I'm dead I can't write' I write something. That being said, after Monday I will have zero time to write for a good 8 days (the 8th day being the sleeping day).

Med room eight quietens down after that. Linta and Baze give Chirrut a sponge bath, dress him in a hospital gown, and put him to bed. Jyn and Cassian watch the room with keen eyes.

Bones leaves. Clips her communicator to the draw-string waist of her scrubs, and heads back to her room. She's intercepted on her way by General Draven.

“Bones,” he calls. She stops and turns. Takes a few steps towards him as he nears. He touches her arm. She leans into it. “How are they?” he asks.

“They'll all recover physically, though I'm yet to know how well,” she replies. “What's been happening?” His face is grave. “Davits?”

“Alderaan,” he says. Slowly. “It's been destroyed.” Bones blinks.

“What,” she says.

“The whole planet.” Her guts catch up with her hearing and drop. Her chest constricts.

“Oh, _no_ ,” she whispers, grabbing Davits' arms as her knees fail to hold. “ _No_.” She's aware, distantly, of arms around her, and rocking, and hands in her hair.

“I'm sorry,” Davits murmurs against her head. “I know your brother was there.”

“My _niece_ ,” she wails into his chest.

“I'm sorry,” he murmurs again. Tucks them into a corner in the hallway, out of normal sight, but not away from prying eyes. He glares down a few ensigns as they move about the hallways. They avert their eyes and rush on, heads bowed.

She screams into his jacket. He strokes her hair.

It's long minutes before she tenses, and he lets his fingers slide off her. She raises herself to her full height and steps back. Her eyes are lined red, her lips are drawn tight, and her shoulders are stiff. “Thank you for telling me, Davits,” she says. Her voice hitches. There's a fine tremor in her hands as she scrubs her hair back. Takes a deep breath. Looks away. “I need to get back to work.” She glances at Davits before stepping away and going back the way she came.

Davits watches until she turns the corner.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahahahaha and you all think Bones is the terrible one...
> 
> (I fucking love this chapter.)

“I thought you were going to get changed?” Linta says, looking up from her datapad.

“Fuck off,” Bones snarls.

“Nope, you're stuck with me honey. What's up?” she puts the datapad down and leans on her elbows.

“No,” Bones says, turning to face Linta with bared teeth. “No, we are not having a discussion.” She slams right back out of med room eight.

Jyn watches from her perch on Cassian's bed. Baze observes from his station above Chirrut's head.

“If Chirrut were awake he would say he felt something in the Force. I suspect what he felt, and what troubles her, are one and the same,” Baze says. Linta turns to look at him.

“I don't know your Force, but I know grief when I see it.” Linta sighs. “It's fine, I've spiked her alcohol with a sedative. I'll go pick her up in twenty and put her to bed.” She picks her datapad up and rocks back in her chair. Jyn casts her a look of blended horror and respect. Baze chuckles.

Bodhi sleeps on.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Off to ride my horse for the first time in about 6 months in 35-40km/hr winds :D 
> 
> Little explanation on my take on Bodhi in the end notes. Not for any purpose, I just felt like explaining it (to myself and to you all).

The door to med room eight snicks open and Linta is there, her hands already passing over a mug of caf. Bones grunts. Drinks it in one go and hands it back. Linta raises an eyebrow at her but takes it away nonetheless.

Everyone but Chirrut is awake. Bones scowls at all of them. Everyone is suddenly very busy. Dart and Pen occupy themselves with prepping bacta tanks for further treatments. Jolan suddenly sees something very important that he must read on the nearest datapad. Baze meets her gaze evenly from his position at Chirrut's head. She bares her teeth at him but looks away first.

“Mo-face and Splenectomy, back in the tanks. I want Mo-face in for another twelve, Splenectomy for another twenty four. Extra crispy in for six hours in two. Shorter-stack gets two. Human Wookie gets one. Now!” she snaps, and everyone leaps to obey.

“ _I am the pilot_ ,” comes the mumble from the corner. Bones clenches her teeth and raises her eyes to the ceiling. Takes a deep breath. Takes another. Rubs her hand across her forehead. At least she'd woken up in her quarters. She no longer has bacta caking her hair. And her scrubs are clean. Extra bonus!

She forces her shoulders down as she walks to the back of the room, the finely oiled machine of her nurses whirring around her. She stops at the foot of Bodhi's bed.

“You're the pilot, buddy, you're the pilot,” she says. He keeps staring at the ceiling.

“ _I am the pilot_ ,” he murmurs. She walks up the side of his bed until he can see her fully. His eyes snap to her face, wide and fearful.

“You're the pilot,” she says, and takes the time to concentrate on her facial muscles, relaxing her forehead, her nose, her lips, her eyes. He takes a deep breath. “Would you like to get up and wander around? There's a fresher just over there if you need to go. We're just putting your friends back in the bacta tanks for quick dip.” He nods quickly.

“Dart, give me a hand with Bodhi, we're going to get him on his feet so he can move a bit. No proper walking, though, only waddling, and _no sitting down_ ,” she says, looking down at her patient. Bodhi nods. Bites his lip.

“Can one of them stay out?” he asks.

“One of … oh,” Bones steps back, looks up. “Hold fire on Baze,” she says. The large man turns to look at her. “Bodhi would prefer company.” Baze nods and re-takes his station by Chirrut's table. Pen, Jolan and Linta are occupied with prepping the biotanks for immersion. “There you go, buddy. Baze will keep you company until you go in, how does that sound?” His lips twitch.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Now, I'm going to lift up under your arms and Dart is going to put your feet on the floor. Like we did yesterday, I need you to keep your body straight until I have you upright, okay?” she says. He nods. She fits her hands under his armpits and nods to Dart. “On three. One, two, three.”

This is much easier. They lift Bodhi off the bed, and Bones holds him while Dart lowers his feet to the floor. Then she steps forward, raising her arms and straightening him up. He's a good patient. He keeps his body rigid throughout the entire process until he's standing under his own power. His smile, when he waddles around to face Bones, encompasses his whole face. Bones feels her eyes relax, the corners of her mouth being drawn upwards. It's not a conscious movement in the face of all that joy.

He wanders around med room eight as the tanks and patients are prepped and everyone is submerged.

Baze takes up his guard next to Chirrut's tank.

Cassian and Jyn tilt their bodies _oh so subtly_ towards the other. Hands float in bacta with just a little more purpose.

“They're so cute,” Linta comments from her chair. “Bets?”

Dart rests his hip on a counter and rubs his chin. He narrows his eyes and hmmms contemplatively. “Within six standard cycles,” he says. Jolan shakes his head.

“I'm not taking this bet, I know I'll just lose credits,” he says.

“Twenty,” Pen replies.

“You in, Bodhi?” Linta asks, and Bodhi spins around from his inspection of the bioscanner (fascinating piece of equipment, really).

“Oh, er, what? Yes.” Here, he glances at the tanks. At the way their fingers reach towards each other, despite the soporific effects of the bacta. “They weren't very close at the start but then they discovered gravity and I think that's what it's like when you find someone who has your back no matter what, you just gravitate towards them, but this is new, this is so new and fresh and ...” he clamps his mouth shut and grins nervously, turning to look at everyone else in the room. “Thirty six cycles,” he says. “Put me down for thirty six cycles.”

Bones eyes him. “I'm going to say fourty two, although I'm not sure if we should let you in because you have _insider information_ ,” she says. Bodhi sends a cheeky flash of a grin her way and goes back to his inspection of the bioscanner.

“Thirty,” Baze grunts. Linta marks it all on the datapad in her hand.

“And I'll go for fifteen cycles,” she says, and puts the datapad down with a flourish. “All agreed that this bet is for _official beginning of relationship_ , whether that be start of physical – for example, a reciprocated kiss, or just right out bonking – or the proposal of an activity that both parties identify as a date.” There are nods from around the room.

“Good, now that that's settled, who wants food?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my thought is, when Bodhi has a task, he can focus. He can do it. He's still a bit ... off about some things, but a task gives him focus, gives him purpose.
> 
> When he's not, he can't, he's a wreck, his mind just isn't quite right. He can interact, he can think, but it just ... things don't quite work. 
> 
> So he settles for reaffirmation of his bravest task. "I am the pilot." He's The Pilot, the one everyone is talking about. It's his proudest achievement, even if it breaks him, because for once he does something because it's Right, not because he's told to do it. He knows in his guts it's the Right Thing To Do, and that thought, that pure shining thought, gets him through everything. So he reminds himself of this. "I am the pilot." (I can cope with this. I can do this. I am me.)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I can't stop...
> 
> But I must because it's late and I have to get up way too early tomorrow.
> 
> Why am I doing this again? (Think of the animals, think of the animals, think of the animals)
> 
> Also I've found (through a lot of personal experience) that rubbing mint toothpaste all over your gums after rinsing makes you feel 10000 times less shit.

It's usually peaceful during the night cycle. Tonight is no exception. Bones sucks down another caf. Linta eyeballed her briefly before deciding to pick her battles a little more wisely and left to sleep. Bones flicks through case studies on her datapad. Every once in a while she checks on Chirrut. It doesn't matter how quietly she moves, Baze's always creaks an eye open to see who it is.

She's quietly pleased when he starts closing his eye again after seeing that it's just her.

The scream takes them all by surprise. Bones is at his bedside, one arm curling around his body to keep him still and her other hand diving into her pockets for her blasted hypospray and sedative canister. Her fingers brush against the raised identification of the canister and she grasps that one and shoves it into the hypospray.

Bodhi throws himself to the side and vomits on her. His eyes are wide and alarmed.

Chunks of meat and bread trickle down her legs to land on her feet.

“I am so so sorry,” he wails. Bones takes a moment to mentally groan at the damp already seeping through her scrub tops, pants, and _shoes_.

“Don't worry,” she says. “You're not the first, and you're certainly not the last. Let's lie you back down and I'll get you something to rinse your mouth out and get rid of the taste.” Bodhi squeezes his eyes shut and the corners of his mouth pull downwards. A flush burns his ear and down his neck. Careful to keep the mess off the bandages, Bones manoeuvres Bodhi back onto his bed and squishes off to find him a cup, some water, and some mint paste.

“I am so so sorry,” he says as she waddles back to his bedside. Another piece of meat drops to the floor with a wet splat.

“Don't be,” she says again. She lifts his shoulders, carefully, and holds the cup for him to drink from. “Rinse,” she instructs, and places the cup down. Pulls out a metal bowl and puts it in front of his face. “Spit.” He does. Grimaces at the taste. “Do you want another rinse? I've got some mint paste to get rid of the taste.” He nods, so they repeat the careful rinse and spit.

When Bones turns around, Jyn has her arm thrown over Cassian's torso, quite clearly stopping him from sitting up. Three pairs of eyes watch Bodhi, all just this side of too carefully blank.

“Sedative, anyone?” she asks with a snarl. Three pairs of eyes look elsewhere, but flick back to Bodhi when she isn't looking.

Bones snaps on some gloves. “Now, I've found the best way to do this is to get the paste on your gums. It just helps flush things out a bit better. So I'm going to put some paste on my finger and stick this between your gums and your lips, so just stay relaxed and you'll feel better in no time,” she says, and Bodhi nods slightly. She dabs the pale green paste onto her gloved finger. “Open up,” she instructs, and he does. She runs her finger along the front of his gums, down the sides, and then along his bottom gums. When she's done, he makes a face, wiggles his lips about, and smacks them. His eyes open in surprise and he looks at her. She grins. “It feels better, dunnit?” she says.

“A lot! I'm still so sorry for throwing up on you,” he says.

“There's no need to apologise,” she replies. “But I'd like to give you a mild sedative to ease your sleep.” Here she pauses. “ _After_ I've changed scrubs.” Bodhi's lips twist into a grimace. “No, no more apologies,” she says over her shoulder.

The door to the fresher shuts after her.

When she does emerge, her hair is slicked back salt and pepper from the shower, and her scrubs are an almost violent turqoise. Bodhi blinks.

“Linta's idea of a festive gift,” Bones explains as she crosses the room.

“It's not even festively coloured?” Bodhi queries. Bones spins around and continues walking towards him, backwards. She jerks her thumbs to the back of her collar where a sprig of mistletoe is embroidered. She spins back around again. Flashes a grin at him that's all teeth.

“No one's tried,” she snarls.

“I … that's probably smart of them,” Bodhi gulps. Her toothy grin turns more genuine.

“You're right. I'm not sure what I'd do to them if they did, but I have unlimited access to surgical tools and awesome drugs so, you know, I could get inventive,” she says.

Cassian turns a strangled laugh into a cough. Jyn's eyes crinkle in the corners. She turns to look at them.

“Oh, you think I'm joking?” she asks, eyebrows raised. Cassian's smile falls from his face and he goes back to staring pointedly at the ceiling. Jyn looks away, but her lips are drawn into a full smile and her eyes crinkle even more. Bones turns back to Bodhi. “Now, I'm going to give you just a mild sedative to help you sleep,” she says. “If this happens again, I'll give you a low level sedative to sleep each night, just until you've had a bit more time in the bacta. I cannot have you agitating those burns.” Bodhi nods. She grabs another hypospray and clips the cannister in. Reaches over and depresses it into Bodhi's neck.

It only takes a few minutes for it to act. Bodhi's eyes close and his face goes slack.

Bones turns to face the room at large. “Anyone else while I've got this out?” she asks, holding the hypospray up.

Everyone politely pretends to sleep, until they finally do once more.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this is a bit ... bitsy and/or disjointed. I wrote it over the last week or so and I'm quite sure on some days I was hallucinating from exhaustion. 
> 
> But the good news is I'm nearly done with dairy. It's all unpaid, as this is mandatory work experience vet students have to undertake during their holidays. I did get some gas and really nice homekill bacon out of it, though, so there's that. 
> 
> There's only one term for the glossary, at the end. I'm taking a bit of creative license with the tachycardia. We'll just roll with it.

Bones is woken by the sound of a HR monitor wailing. She's on her feet before her eyes focus. Someone shoves a mug into her hand as she lurches towards the noise. She takes two long gulps. Spills some down her shirt. Shoves it back at the person who gave it to her and narrows her eyes at the readout of Chirrut's bacta tank.

Linta skids to a stop next to her.

“V tach, HR 139 and climbing,” Linta says, lunging for the emergency horizontal drain button. Bones grabs her arm.

“Hold fire,” she says. “Good pulse strength, _stable_ v tach, give it a few seconds...” The room is silent but for the whining of the HR monitor. “Come on,” Bones growls at the monitor. “Come _on_.”

The whining stops. Everyone breathes again. Baze's face is pinched as he stares at Chirrut.

“Shitfuck,” Bones says and rolls her head back on her shoulders.

The sirens go off.

“ _Shitfuck_ ,” Bones says. She spins away. Jyn sits on Cassian's bed, a hand on his chest to keep him _down_. Bodhi's eyes are wide staring at the ceiling.

She can't hear him but she knows he's repeating his mantra.

Linta yells into her communicator. Bones runs to the nearest cupboard and starts pulling out their pre-packed Quick Escape Bags. She hauls grav gurneys out from beneath cupboards and starts loading them up with bags, sifting through the contents of cupboards and jamming more supplies into side pockets.

Linta pulls two grav gurneys away and, with Baze's help, loads Cassian onto one and Bodhi onto the other. Jyn hops up on Cassian's gurney and glowers at him.

Baze moves towards Chirrut's bacta tank.

“I'm not unloading him until we're given our evac instructions,” Bones says. Baze looks at her. “Every second he spends in that tank may mean the difference between serious complications or a full recovery.” He looks back into the tank. His lips draw down.

Bones grabs a grav gurney and swings it around. Throws a few sheets on it. “When we're ready, he'll go on here and we'll wrap him well enough for any eventuality. Thermal sheets are packed.”

Baze grabs a grav gurney of his own and begins loading it up. The staff goes on first, with great care. A heavy repeating blaster goes on, attached to a back-mounted power pack. Two smaller hand-held blasters go on.

There's a commotion behind her. Bones spins to see Cassian wriggling towards the edge of the bed. He puts his leg over the side. Jyn yells at him.

“ _Oh fucking no you do not_ ,” Bones howls.

“I need to get him!” Cassian yells back.

“Get back on the bed or I will hypospray you so hard your _great grandchildren will feel it_ ,” Bones snarls, rounding on him and lifting his leg back onto the grav gurney.

“I need to get him! He's got a backup, I need to get it!” Cassian insists, trying to pull himself out from beneath Jyn, who has bracketed him in on either side with her arms and looks seconds away from sitting on his chest to keep him still.

“If you try to walk now you will never walk again,” Bones says. “If you continue trying to get up, _I will sedate you_.”

“I don't care!” Cassian yells. “I need to get him!”

“You're not moving!” Jyn howls back. “Tell me where it is, I'll get it.”

Bones curls her hands into fists. Takes a deep breath. “Tell me who or what it is and where to find it,” she says. “Any complaints will be sedated, so _start talking_.”

Jyn looks up and Cassian ceases his struggles. “It's a backup drive. Kay-two made one before we left to Jedha.” He looks up at Bones. “It is secured under the table in my quarters.”

Bones blinks. “So where the fuck are your quarters?”

“Room A five seven two eight,” he replies. “It should be stuck under the left side. I _need to get it_.”

“You're only one row over from me, I'm A five six zero two.”

“I've heard the zeros are a bit nicer,” Cassian says.

“They are. We get spa baths. _With bubbles_.” Bones leers at him. “Now sit tight, do everything Linta says. She'll sedate you otherwise.” She grabs Linta's arm as she spins past. “I'm grabbing a backup disk from Cassian's rooms. You have the fort. If we're given the evac order, let me know and _get out_.” Linta opens her mouth to berate her but Bones is already moving, speeding out the door and down pulsing hallways.

She breaks into a run. She's moving against the flow of people leaving the quarters block to their designated evac point. When she finally gets to block A5, row 7, it's deserted. She pelts down the hall. Room 18 … 24 … 28! She slams the door open.

It's bare. Almost as bare as her own quarters. A single bed is shunted against a wall, in the cubby made by the tiny cupboard next to the door and the far wall. To the left of the door, shoved hard into the far corner (not that it's very far, really, you could barely swing a gizka without hitting all four walls) is a simple desk and chair.

She kneels to look under it. The backup disk is right where Cassian said it would be. She peels it off and puts it in her button-up chest pocket.

The siren shuts off and she looks up at the ceiling. “You've got to be shitting me,” she says. Pulls out her communicator. “Linta, what's the word?”

“Nothing yet,” comes the prompt reply.

“Keep everyone mobile just in case,” she says.

“Confirm, everyone mobile,” Linta replies.

Bones ducks down the next aisle and enters her own sparse quarters. She grabs a bag. Shoves a lumpy scarf and a holopad into it. The smattering of underthings and socks she owns goes into the bag. She grabs her spare boots. Nips in to Linta's room next door and does the same – clears her desk of holopads and her single draw of underthings and socks. She takes Linta's spare boots from under her cot and makes her way back to med room eight at a somewhat more sedate pace than her race towards the quarters block.

“The fuck,” she begins, throwing the door to med room eight open. “Is this shit.” She drops the bag and boots by the door.

“Still no word,” Linta replies.

“Did you get it?” Cassian growls, eyes intent. Bones digs her fingers into her pocket and flips it out. His body goes limp and Jyn smiles. “Thank you.”

Bones grabs some gauze and med tape. Undoes the neck on Cassian's gown and pulls it down, slaps the backup tape wrapped in gauze on his chest and tapes it on. “Now you can't lose it,” she says with a grin as she does up his gown. Jyn laughs and brushes her hand against the subtle shape beneath cloth. Cassian flushes.

“Thank you,” he says again.

“You got my boots,” Linta says.

“Well since the sirens aren't going off I figured I'd get the necessities if we had to zip quick,” Bones replies. “Anyone else need shit from their quarters? I can get a nurse to do a run.”

Baze shakes his head. “Nothing but what we came with,” he says.

“I think I need new clothes,” Bodhi says.

“I have some spare, you might fit them,” Cassian says.

“Oh, thank you,” Bodhi mumbles.

“Linta, could you get Dart to -” Bones begins.

“On it. You got my holopad of Niffler?” Linta asks.

“If it was on your desk, yes. I grabbed them all.”

“Good, and my undercrackers?”

“And your undercrackers.”

“And _your_ undercrackers?”

“Yes, _mum_ , and my undercrackers.” Bones raises an eyebrow.

“Good, I won't send Dart to go rifling through your unmentionables, then.”

“No need to traumatise the poor boy. I'm pretty sure he our thinks scrubs are exoskeletons and we're just jelly mush beneath,” Bones says. Linta cackles and turns to her communicator.

“You'll stay on grav gurneys until we've been given the all clear or the all move,” Bones tells the room at large. She busies herself checking and double checking the evac bags, adding various bits to overstuffed pockets.

It takes a few minutes before they all pick up on the dull roar of screams. Baze throws two blasters at Jyn. She keeps one. Cassian receives the other, sighting down the barrel as he lies there. Baze hauls his own heavy blaster into his hands and aims it at the door.

Linta ducks under one of the tables and comes out with another two blasters. One, she throws at Bones. The other she keeps.

Baze stands between Chirrut's tank and the door. Bones grabs Bodhi's gurney and crams him into a corner behind a bacta tank. Linta grabs Cassian's gurney – Jyn still perched on top – and shove them off to one side, tucked almost behind a cabinet. Jyn and Cassian both angle their blasters to the door.

The screams become louder.

Bones and Linta place themselves between their patients and the door, mindful of line of sight so everyone can get a clear shot.

The door is slammed open and the wails reverberate off the walls of med room eight.

Five blasters flick skyward. It's an ensign.

“ _They did it, they kriffin did it!_ ” he screams at them, whoops, and launches himself back out the door down the hallway. The cheering follows him down the hall, boots hitting steel floors in an exuberant clatter as people run hither and tither, spreading the news with broad smiles.

“They did what?” Cassian says, only glaring a little when Jyn takes his blaster away from him.

“Bones, your comm,” Linta calls, throwing her communicator. Bones has a moment to flick the blaster into her left hand before catching her communicator in her right.

“What's going on,” she barks into her communicator.

“We've successfully destroyed the Death Star,” Davits' voice replies. Whatever else Davits says is lost in the whoops from Cassian, Jyn and Bodhi, and the quiet 'thank the Force' from Baze.

“Sorry, Davits, repeat what you just said?” Bones says, flapping her blaster at them to quieten them down. Linta grabs the blaster back.

“We're organising an award ceremony for all those who performed exceptional duties. The entire Rogue One crew is to be commemorated,” Davits says.

“When's this happening?” she asks.

“Now,” is the reply. Bones is quiet for a moment.

“No,” she says.

“No?”

“No,” she repeats. “No, my patients are not being paraded out for morale boosting.” Jyn's face is closed off when Bones glances up at them. Bodhi has a look of naked relief on his face.

Baze stares at Chirrut's body as it floats in bacta goo.

“They're the ones who retrieved the plans so that we could destroy the Death Star in the first instance,” Davits says.

“One is unconscious, one is missing a leg, one is a bandage mummy and one has a shattered spine,” Bones snaps back. “When they are awarded their medals, they will _all_ stand to receive them, and they will receive their medals _together_.”

“Princess Leia wishes to give them all the medals now,” Davits says.

“I don't give a shit if she's the fucking Emperor, none of my patients are fit to stand, let alone participate in an award ceremony,” Bones replies. “When they are fit to stand and participate in an award ceremony they will have the award ceremony. More importantly, are we still evacuating?”

“The Empire know where we are,” he says. A cold fist settles in Bones' gut. “The Alliance Fleet has been ordered to assist in the evacuation. They've begun arriving already.”

“Good, give me a pilot and evac -”

“But _I'm_ the pilot!” Bodhi says adamantly from his corner. Bones shoots him a look.

“Give me a pilot and a straight evac to an onboard medical facility. I need six beds and two bacta tanks _minimum_ ,” she says.

“Redemption is en route, Home One is here and taking our primaries,” Davits replies.

“Give me Home One, the medics on Redemption give me ulcers,” Bones growls.

“I'm aware,” Davits says dryly. “I'll have Lieutenant Sanders dispatched and have someone call through to clear a med bay for you on Home One.”

“Thanks, Davits,” Bones says, and the line goes dead. She turns to face her patients.

“We don't need another pilot, I can get us up there just as quickly,” Bodhi says from his grav gurney in the corner. “We can take the Delta class and be up there in no time.”

“Bodhi,” Bones says, walking over to him. “You're the pilot, but right now you're also seriously injured. If you take the time to recover, you _will pilot again_ , but I can't have you sitting and pulling those burns.” He gives her a look like a kicked loth-cat. Bones folds her arms across her chest and gives him a level look right back. “Give me another five cycles and I'll set you up with the best flight sim they have on board.” The smile that creeps across Bodhi's face is stunning in its joy. Bones narrows her eyes.

“Alright,” he says.

“Good.” Bones turns. Dart wanders in, two bags slung over his arms. One, he deposits with Cassian. The other he holds onto himself. “We're evac once Tim gets here, you good to run?”

“Yes, boss,” he says. “Pen's tied up evac of med rooms two and three. Tib is evac with Doctor Jonas.”

“They're not taking my nurses with them,” Bones says.

“On it,” Linta calls before Bones can even reach for her communicator. “You just make sure we've got everything we need. Have you packed the crutches?” Bones swears and potters back off to the cupboards, leaving Linta and Dart a moment to breathe a sigh of relief.

It's barely five minutes later when Tib and Pen barge in the door to med room eight, their own bags on their shoulders. Lieutenant Tim Sanders is hard on their heels.

“We ready to go?” Tim asks.

“Give me two,” Bones replies, and begins the horizontal drain of Chirrut's tank. She and Linta haul him out and wrap him in towels. They whip off the large bacta diaper and fit a much smaller, but no more dignified, diaper onto Chirrut. They lift him onto the grav gurney and cover him with blankets. Linta takes over Chirrut's grav gurney and begins to push him towards the exit. Baze keeps pace, pulling the gurney laden with their gear. Pen grips the side of Cassian's grav gurney and lets Jyn get her balance before pushing off. Dart pushes Bodhi's gurney.

Bones grabs the two gurneys piled high with equipment, throws her and Linta's boots on the top, along with her bag, and follows them out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> V tach - ventricular tachycardia. This is where the heart rate is abnormally high due to an electrical abnormality in the ventricles.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting further into drabble territory, so expect more chapters to be short little scenes rather than the long epics we've previously had. 
> 
> On a funny note, the day before the farmer was due to go off on holiday, he busted his left knee. Four days later, I did the same knee in and had to call in relief milkers (since I couldn't kneel to get the cups on - no, we're not in a normal shed, this thing's been going since 1860). Yesterday, his DOG did the same knee in! The farm is cursed, I tell you, CURSED! 
> 
> I'm also all done. HUZZAH!!

The transfer to Home One is quick. They're met in the hangar by Ensign Spitz, who advises he's there to direct them to their designated medical facility.

Home One is massive, and even with the ever efficient turbolifts, it takes them far too long to get to the medical facility. Bones' eye twitches as the door opens and a medic greets them.

“Hello,” he says, calm and pleasant and mild and everything Bones is _not_. “I'm Doctor Jones. If you're able to brief me on the immediate concerns, we can get everyone settled in, and then we can go over everything fully so I can understand the ongoing care needs for these patients.”

Bones is surging forwards before Linta can grab her. Doctor Jones takes a step back as she stalks into his space. She barely comes up to his chin.

She's terrifying.

“These are _my patients_ ,” she snarls. Doctor Jones takes another step back. She follows him, teeth bared. “ _I_ will be overseeing their care.”

“With all due respect-” Doctor Jones tries. Linta jumps forward and grabs Bones' arm.

“ _Don't you 'with all due respect' me,_ ” she hisses. “You are clearly under the erroneous assumption that I would permit _any one of you bantha fuckers_ to treat my patients.”

“Don't -”

“ _No, you don't_. When was the last time you took manual blood pressure? The last time you operated? The last time you _treated a fucking patient without bacta_?”

“I don't see how -”

“ _Get out_.”

“But this is my -”

“ _Get the fuck out_.”

“But -”

“Please, she'll only go to Mon Mothma if you don't,” Linta says, pulling Bones away from Doctor Jones.

“But -”

“I'll comm her  _right fucking now_ and you can explain to her what the delay is with settling in the _people who got the fucking Death Star plans_ into their _much needed_ bacta tanks,” Bones growls.

“I'll just -”

“Yes, please,” Linta replies, and Doctor Jones flees. Bones snarls at the man's retreating back.

Bodhi watches her with wide eyes and a tiny smile. Baze's eyes crinkle in the corners. Cassian and Jyn outright _beam_ at her.

Bones' nurses leap into action. A bacta tank is prepped and filled for Chirruts re-immersion. Cassian and Jyn are transferred to one of the _really_ comfortable beds in the somewhat better appointed med room. Bodhi is lifted back onto his feet for a potter around. Caf is shoved into Bones' hands and she is propped up in a corner, out of the way of the bustle of nurses and patients to cool down.

Bodhi waddles over to her. “Thank you,” he says quietly. Bones glances up at him and some of the tension leeches from her shoulders.

“I wasn't going to let one of those _gizkas_ touch any of you. They can't figure their way around a damn ear infection without a bacta tank, let alone stabilise blast damage well enough for immersion,” Bones grumbles. Her voice is less heated.

“Still, thank you. You didn't have to stick your neck out for us, either here or for the ceremony.” Bodhi looks at his wrapped hands, turns them over. “I don't think I'd want to be at an award ceremony without Chirrut. Or looking like this.”

“I know,” Bones replies.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More drabbly than last time. For the record, this is my standard chapter format, not the marathons I've been writing. I pick a single point in time, a single scene, and I write it. Sometimes it's 56 words, sometimes it's 2,000 words. 
> 
> BTW I am on tumblr, @dogtorbones. Hit me up. I'm not massively active there, as I'm usually spending my time writing :D

Chirrut is loaded into the bacta tank for a further six hours. Baze takes up his post with his back pressing against the tank, legs straight in front of him. The staff rests across his thighs. His fingers trace patterns along its surface.

Jyn rests on her bed, shoved up hard against Cassian's. Their hands touch, just barely. Cassian sleeps. He looks much younger than his twenty six years. Bodhi potters around. Follows Pen around for a bit, then Dart. Finally he asks to be put back to bed. Bones and Dart lift him carefully onto the bed, and he's asleep within minutes.

The beds are just _so much more comfortable_ on this ship.

So, as Bones discovers, are the desks. She groans awake several hours later with a crick in her neck and a mug of caf being shoved into her hand. She wipes the dribble off her face with the short sleeve of her scrubs top. “Muh,” she says, with great intelligence.

“Caf,” Linta says from somewhere to her right.

“Ngh,” she repeats, and takes a long swig of the tar-like substance in her cup. Hums her pleasure and clutches it to her chest as she blinks around the room.

They're travelling through hyperspace. Bones can feel it in the fine vibrations beneath her feet, the peculiar ripping in her guts.

It's never a pleasant sensation for her.

“Scatter thing doing?” she says, glancing over at Linta.

“Yes,” Linta replies. “We're on scatter until they've decided on a new base headquarters.”

“Great,” Bones says. Sucks down some more of her caf and stands up. “Anything else?” she asks.

“Nothing so far, we're just cruising around. No one's been doing anything interesting. Chirrut's back out of bacta,” Linta says.

“Good,” Bones says. She sits back down, kicks her feet up on the desk, picks up a data pad and starts flicking through.

Linta smiles when, within ten minutes, Bones is snoring again.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I'm claiming some creative license here. It's HARD to find photos of third degree burns and their healing progression. I understand the concept of how it heals, I'm just sort of partly making this up as I go along, so let's just roll with it. Also bacta. More creative license on the healing ;)
> 
> And now I should probably put some pants on and prepare myself for a brief bout of Adulting.

“Out you come, Bodhi,” Bones says, fitting a hand beneath his armpit and walking him forwards into the shower. They're keeping his bacta soaks short. He still can't wear the diaper for longer immersions. His entire left side is a mess of raw skin. It is healing, however, and it's healing at a good rate.

Bones eyeballs the stubble growing around the burns on his face. They'll have to shave it.

Bodhi stumbles along with her. He's still embarrassed about his nudity, with a flush spreading down his neck before he's fully conscious.

At least he's stopped flailing out of the bacta tanks. Bones' nose is still a little tender from the elbow she took after the first immersion. He's cleaned of the bacta goo patted dry in no time. Bones helps him into his gown and ties it up at the back, leaving the neck gaping away from white tissue of the burns there.

“Okay, Bodhi, I'm going to have a look at all your burns now in a bit more detail. I'm going to need to touch you for this, but I'll be very gentle,” Bones says, turning away to slap on gloves. She misses Bodhi's smile.

“Okay,” he says and stands there patiently. She starts with his face, peering intently at the tissue covering his ear and creeping up the left side of his head almost to the midline. It's a terrible, blanched off-white, thickened and almost pustulous. There is a _very_ small hole for the ear canal. It's mostly closed from the inflamed tissue. Around the edges the terrible whiteness bleeds to mottling pink flesh. It paints an ugly picture across his darkened skin. It clips up his brow, taking half his left eyebrow with it. Slides along his cheek to claw towards his eye. The thickened white creeps along his jawline and down his neck. The pink finishes the stretch towards his chin.

His shoulders are a mottling of pink and white where the blast hit directly and indirectly. The backs of his hands are thick with bleached tissue. The palms of his hands and fingers, when she runs her fingers down them, are pink with new flesh. She inspects the insides of his arms. It's fascinating to see the stretch of pink diving into sable. It's horrific to see the stark white.

“I'm going to have to undo your gown a bit and move it so I can see your side, now,” Bones says. Bodhi nods. His entire left side and leg is white vines and red divots, blending to pink and then back to unblemished skin as it curls around his front and back. The inside of his right leg – the calf, the knee, and part of the thigh – is the same. Bones stands up from her inspection and ties his gown back up.

“You're healing well,” she says. Bodhi smiles. “Your second degree burns are healing up beautifully. Your third degree ones – that's all the white stuff – is also healing nicely. We'll keep you well bandaged for another three days or so, but after that I'd be happy for you to start bending body parts to get your joints to unseize.”

Dart spreads out the bacta gauze bandages and tape and scissors, and they get to work taping Bodhi up. Except this time they don't gauze up the fronts of his hands, and the bandages don't reach quite as far along his face. They tape the gauze on over newly-healed skin or clear flesh.

Bones takes a bit of bacta goo and carefully wipes it across his brow, up his jaw and down his throat. Just lightly coating the healing second degree burns. She takes up his hands and spreads the goo along the palms and fingers, down his wrists and and up his forearms until the pink disappears. The legs they've just wrapped in bacta gauze and bandaged back up, but his arms are freer than they've been since he came in.

Bones steps back. His entire face is alive with delight as he looks at his hands. Bones can't help but smile in response.

“Yeah, I think you'll do,” she says. He looks up at her.

“Thank you,” he breathes. Her eyebrow twitches.

“I'll see what I can do about that sim,” she says and steps back, flicking her gloves into the rubbish bin as she passes on her way out.

Baze rolls his eyes and tilts his head so he can see Chirrut fully. He mumbles. It's too quiet for anyone to hear.

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't wait until tomorrow to post this because I love this chapter so much.
> 
> You can thank Unicorn for his first words, and for Linta's comment on the leg.
> 
> Once again, CREATIVE LICENSE on the healing.
> 
> Check out @dogtorbones for a wee pic of Bodhi and the massive facial scarring he's got going on. Or will have going on (because right now HE BALD).

Bones saunters back into the med room.

“I know that look,” Linta says.

“Oh no,” Dart moans. Pen and Jolan look from Linta to Bones to Dart and back.

Bones flashes them a vicious grin. “We're surrounded by laserbrains.”

“Really,” Linta says. Bones stalks past and picks up a datapad.

“Doctor Dilen is two rooms over,” she replies.

“Oh kark, really?” Linta throws her hand to her head and groans. Dart shakes his head.

Pen and Jolan are still _so confused_.

“At least he's only allowed to work on humans now,” Bones says. “Zick's taken over everything else. At least she's not incompetent.”

“Glowing praise from you,” Linta says. “That's good. Hopefully that means no more lekku amputations.” Bones huffs and nods.

“Here's fucking hoping. Too much nerve innervation and vascularisation for my liking.”

“I can't see.”

Everyone spins to the unfamiliar voice in the middle of the room and Bones launches herself towards the bed, already removing the penlight from her pocket and snapping it on and off to check it works. She gets to Chirrut's bed. Baze has his head tilted back and his eyes looking towards the ceiling.

“That's because _you're blind_ ,” Baze says, dropping his head down to look at Chirrut. The man on the bed gives a weak cackle and Baze's face melts into a look Bones cannot watch for its naked adoration.

“You're … wait?” Bones turns back to them. “You're blind,” she says.

“Yes,” Chirrut replies.

“Don't mind him, he just likes to cause trouble,” Baze grumbles.

“Nonsense,” Chirrut says.

For once, Bones cannot think of anything to say, and so she doesn't. Instead, she hauls down the bioscanner and starts flicking through the readouts.

“Well shit,” Bones says. Flicks the bioscanner back up and leans over the bed. “You thirsty?” she asks.

“My mouth feels like Jedha,” he grouses.

“I'll take that as a yes. We'll get you something to drink, and then I'd like to prod you a bit,” Bones says.

Chirrut angles his head to where he knows Baze stands. His blue eyes do not move, but his eyebrows rise in query. Baze says nothing. His hand comes up to rest on Chirrut's neck.

“Alright,” Chirrut says, dropping his head back.

Dart brings a cup and straw of water.

“Oh shit this place is fancy,” Bones comments as she looks for, and finds, the little control panel on the bed. “I'm going to raise the head of your bed, now, so you can sit up and drink.”

Baze steps to the other side of the bed as the top half rises. Chirrut's head moves.

“Are the others?” Chirrut says.

“We're okay,” Jyn replies. “We're all here.” Chirrut's smile is instant and rivals Bodhi's for the pureness of the joy held in the corners of his lips.

“All is as the Force wills it,” Chirrut says.

“All is as Bodhi wills it,” Bones replies. “He's the tough little fucker who piloted you all back here.”

“It was nothing, really,” Bodhi exclaims from where he's poking a datapad.

“The Force is with us,” Chirrut replies. “We are one with the force.” Baze rolls his eyes, but the smile belies his frustration.

“Drink your water before I give you back your spleen and see how well your Force heals it,” Bones growls. Chirrut finds the straw and takes a few sips.

“You took my spleen?” he asks, indignant.

“Yep. Got it in a jam jar, where it belongs,” Bones replies.

“Why did you take my spleen?”

“Same reason I took Jyn's leg,” she says. “It was going to kill you.”

“You took Jyn's _leg_?” This time he sounds horrified.

“Yes,” pipes Linta, “we're having it for tea later.” Bones snorts. Jyn makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like choked sobs.

“Well it was either that or she die, and I tend to like my patients living,” Bones says. “And it's for dinner _tomorrow night_.” The choked sobbing turns into strangled giggles.

“Chirrut,” Baze says, voice gravelly.

“Alright,” Chirrut sighs. “Let's get on with this poking.”

“I'm going to lie you back now,” Bones says. “I need to feel your abdomen.” The bed reclines back to flat and Bones adjusts his sheet and hospital gown to bare his stomach while maintaining some level of dignity.

“Oooh it's a bit drafty in here,” Chirrut says. Bones glances up at Baze, who rolls his eyes in response.

“I'm going to palpate your abdomen now. Please let me know if any of this hurts,” she says.

“Ow,” Chirrut deadpans. Bones quirks an eyebrow at him.

“I'm not even touching you,” she says.

“I know. You said to tell you if it hurts, well it's a bit sore now,” he replies.

“I'm not surprised, your gastrointestinal tract _is_ hollow, and when percussive blasts hit hollow, there's usually a lot of bruising,” Bones says. “Now tell me if anything hurts _more_ than baseline, and describe the kind of pain.” She places her fingers along the pink incision scar and lightly depresses. Delightfully, his rectus abdominus does not contract, but rather stays relaxed. She moves her hands to lower and depresses. Nothing. Moves her hands laterally left and digs in deep. Still nothing. Moves her hands cranially and digs her fingers in deep beneath the ribs.

“Ow,” Chirrut says. “Feels like bruising.”

She removes her fingers and goes to the other side, digging her fingers up and under the ribs on his right. Runs her fingers caudally and depresses there.

“This is good,” Bones says, looking up at Baze. “I'm feeling no abnormalities, nothing's coming up on the bioscanner. Now I'm going to test your proprioception and some of your muscle groups. We're going to get a bit inventive since you're _blind_.” Bones pauses for a minute here and stares pointedly at Chirrut. It still makes her feel better. “So I'm going to move your hand and arm to a position. You're then going to touch your nose and then move your hand and arm back into that position.”

Bones moves his arm straight out to the side. “Okay, touch your nose and put it back,” she says, and he does. She moves it up above his head. He touches his nose and puts it back. At an angle above him. This goes on for quite some time with both arms and legs until she's comfortable that he has adequate proprioception. She then applies pressure to each limb in different positions, asking him to resist or directly oppose the pressure.

“All systems appear functioning. How's your right ear?” she asks. Chirrut grimaces.

“It's ringing,” he says.

“That's good, it means the tympanic membrane has actually healed.”

“It also means I can't _see_ ,” Chirrut huffs.

“You couldn't see before,” Baze says.

“You know what I mean,” Chirrut grumbles.

“You were born blind, then,” Bones says.

“Yes,” Chirrut replies.

“Your brain has rewired to process auditory information in the optic cortex,” Bones says. “That's actually _fascinating_ , most people I come across become blind later in life.”

“Fascinating it may be, it would be very inconvenient if I couldn't _hear_ properly,” Chirrut says.

“Well now that you're conscious, we'll continue with a slightly less intensive bacta tank treatment regime and we can test your hearing after it's settled each time to see if there's any improvement,” Bones says. “For now, though, you're to stay in bed and rest. You've got another twelve hours or so before I'd like to get you back in bacta. You hungry? I can get you some broth. Anyone else?”

Bodhi nods eagerly over his datapad. Cassian and Jyn are a chorus of “yes, please”. Baze grunts his agreement.

“I don't suppose I have much of a choice as to what I'm fed?” Chirrut asks.

“Nope!” Bones replies cheerfully. “You eat broth or I stomach tube you again and you get nutritional goo.” Chirrut makes a face.

“Then I would like broth, please.”

“Don't worry, it's better than we're used to,” Baze grumbles.

“I'll believe that when I see it.”

“You're _blind_.”

“That's not the _point_.”

Bones glances between the two and shakes her head, moving off to the side to wave Dart down to get some food delivered.

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little interlude, and a case of somewhat mistaken identity. THAT'S NO NURSE!
> 
> Updates may slow down a bit. I seem to have either a thumping case of hay-fever induced sinusitis or a sinus infection and it is PAAAAAAAAAANTS.
> 
> I'd also like to say, from the absolute bottom of my heart, thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. You lovely, fantastic, incredible people who send me hearts, one liners, and tidbits of yourselves and your own experiences with some of the injuries portrayed here, YOU ARE WHY THIS IS UPDATING SO QUICKLY! Your reviews give me a happy, and because of the happy you give me, I am motivated to write.
> 
> Also hit me up on @dogtorbones. I don't have an ask box open, so just tag me in a post or flick me a PM! Just be aware I'm enthusiastic, abuse the fuck out of capslock, and may make absolutely no sense whatsoever.

The first time Davits Draven meets Bones, he is a Commander in the Alliance Fleet and freshly evaced with his troops from a skirmish on Balmorra. A skirmish they very nearly lost.

He has lost almost half his company. The ones that did make it have blaster wounds or missing limbs. Davits has a piece of metal as thick as his fist straight through his left thigh. One of his troops performed basic first aid: applied a tourniquet, turned two shirts into cushioned donuts to stabilise the piercing, and strapped it all up.

He is perched on the edge of a bed in one of the medical rooms. Nurses rush around doing quick scans. A tiny nurse in surgical scrubs and a fearsome scowl stops by him.

“Get on the bed,” she snarls. He hops up and immediately regrets it when he jostles the metal. A hypospray is jabbed into his neck and he yelps. “Suck it up, buttercup,” she growls. The pain recedes immediately. She pulls the bioscanner down and nearly brains Davits with it.

“Watch out,” he yelps.

“Lie the fuck down then,” she snaps back. She pokes at the screen for a moment before flicking it back up. A doctor comes up on his other side.

“We'll pull that out and get him in a bacta tank,” the doctor says.

“Fuck off,” she replies, withdrawing a pair of scissors from a hip-bag and making quick work of the bandages tying up Davits' leg.

“He needs to go into a bacta tank now,” the doctor says, putting his hands flat on the table and leaning over, into the nurse's space.

She looks up. “If you take this out and put him in that bacta tank he will bleed out before you can say 'oops, I'm a fucking moron and I just killed _another_ patient', so _fuck off_ ,” she growls. The scissors point uncomfortably close to the doctor's carotid. The doctor removes himself very quickly after that.

“Really?” Davits asks.

“Either fuck up or I sedate you,” is the only response he gets. He decides the best thing to do right now is shut up and let the truly terrifying nurse do her job. He can discuss her attitude at a later time. Ideally sometime after she's finished with her scissors, and/or ripping metal bars out of his thigh.

She yanks over a table and drops a surgical kit onto it. She opens the outer layer, slaps on some gloves, fills her hands with cotton gauze, and grabs the metal bar around the gauze.

She looks him in the eye. “On three,” she says. “One.” She pulls it out and he screams. She's fiddling around _inside_ his leg before his back even hits the bed.

He remains conscious through the entire procedure, teeth grinding and fingers denting the edges of the bed.

“You'll fucking live,” she says. There's still a _kriffing hole_ in his leg. She grabs the tourniquet and undoes it. He howls through his teeth until he has to suck in shallow breath after breath. “Bacta, twelve hour initial immersion, four further immersions of six over maximum six days.” Another nurse takes over and the angry woman marches off to her next victim.

“Who the _kriff_ was that?” Davits snaps out.

“That's Bones,” the nurse replies. “You learn to do what she says and not question it too much. Partly because she's already broken the nose of one doctor but mostly because she's usually right.”

Davits blinks. He yells when he feels another hypospray jab into his neck and glares down at Bones as she shoves her hands in his armpits and bodily hauls him to a bacta tank.

Things get a bit hazy after that, on account of the sedative she'd just hypo'd him with, but she's gone when he's out of the tank and for that, he's glad.

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bones has no feelings. Everyone knows this.
> 
> More Davits <3
> 
> I have their second and third meeting interludes already written BUT I CAN'T USE THEM YET because we have to get up to Doctor Sinclair.

The stew and bread arrives with a bowl of broth for Chirrut. Bodhi picks up his bowl of stew with a delighted grin and begins to eat by himself.

“No spoon,” Bones says, and he complies, tipping the bowl up to his lips and eagerly supping the chunky stew down.

“Do I get a spoon?” Chirrut pipes up.

“No,” Bones snaps.

“Even if I ask nicely?”

“Fuck off,” Bones replies. Baze snorts. Chirrut shrugs, unperturbed, and raises his own bowl to his lips.

There's peace and quiet for a moment while everyone eats.

The door opens and Jyn drops her spoon into her stew. Cassian stiffens beside her. Puts his own stew down and grabs her arm. Bones looks from Jyn to where Davits is walking in and puts her own bowl of stew down.

“No drama in my fucking infirmary. Davits, out. Now,” Bones growls. He looks at Jyn, who appears to be contemplating the most appropriate method of dismemberment, and then to Bones. He turns around and walks out.

Bones follows him.

“What do you want, Davits,” she sighs as they step to the side of the hallway.

“I wanted to make sure you made it safely,” he replies.

“I'm touched, Davits,” she replies dryly. “I'm a fucking comm away.”

“You know what I mean,” he says.

“Fucking spiffing, Davits. I'm fucking spiffing. The end.” Bones crosses her arms over her chest and juts her chin, glowering her challenge up at Davits.

“I'm sure,” he replies. “There's a lot of interest in the Rogue One crew, I'm not sure how much longer I can keep people off your back.” Bones' nostrils flare and she tosses her head.

“Send them my way, I need to re-stock my supply of organs,” she says with a toothy smile.

“That's part of why I'm trying to keep them off your back,” Davits says. “When will they be released from your tender clutches?”

“Once I'm done dismembering them,” she says. At Davits' look she huffs and ducks her head. “A week. Maybe two for spinal.” Davits takes a deep breath.

“I can probably keep them out of your hair until they're released,” Davits eventually says. “I can put off the ceremony until we've organised our new headquarters since the fleet is so scattered.”

“What's ETA on that?”

“Unknown. We're on scatter protocol. We've got a few more jumps before we can settle into a low power orbit. We've got people looking into it already and have a number of possibilities, but we can't decide anything until we're all sitting pretty,” Davits says.

“I request a beach-side residence with appropriate quantities of fine rum and some strapping young lads to massage my sore back,” Bones says.

“I'll take your request under advisement,” Davits replies.

“You do and I'll even save you a beach chair.”

“I'll hold you to that.”

“Good, now fuck off back to work finding me that beach.”

Davits looks at her for a long moment. Assessing. Bones' eyebrow twitches. He blinks and graces her with a tiny upswing of his lips. “Yes, boss,” he replies.

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little one today, but no less important for its size! 
> 
> There's a pic of Bones looking totally and utterly done with this shit up on my tumblr @dogtorbones
> 
> And now off to pony ride again.

Bones returns to her bowl of stew and wanders over to where Linta sits. She hops up onto the desk and pulls a datapad out from under her with a grimace. Puts it out of the way.

“Did you catch that?” she murmurs, casting an eye over Jyn and Cassian. Jyn still looks murderous.

“Oh yeah, therapy for everyone!” Linta replies as she checks boxes on a datapad form.

“We're the Rebel Alliance,” Bones grumbles. “We don' have time for therapy.”

“I will make time. We can do it on the fly, at the same time as other things! We can multitask! I hear that's healthier.”

“I'll … let you to it then,” Bones says, and leaves with her bowl of stew to find a somewhat safer area of the room to eat in. She ends up next to Bodhi, who seems to take up a quiet happy humming whenever he's eating.

It's peaceful.

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OHGOD I HAVEN'T HAD MY COFFEE YET WHAT IS THIS
> 
> I had a thing I was going to say but lack of caf is just not a thing that should happen to the thing. And now on with the other thing.

They drop into realspace some time in what functions as the afternoon on Home One. There's a pause of an hour, during which Bones makes her delight at _finally_ being out of hyperspace well known, before they're surging off again.

Bones spends a few minutes wondering whether or not she's going to be sick. Despite her many long years hopping about the Alliance Fleet, usually after Mon Mothma, she has never quite managed to get her space legs. Or space stomach. Hyperspace is a constant lurch in her intestines, a discomfort that reduces her appetite and her patience to next to nothing.

Linta hands her a mug of caf and she holes up in a corner desk, knees tucked up to her chest, mug perched on a knee, and datapad held on the desk in front of her. Bodhi rests his hip on the edge of the desk and joyously pokes his own datapad.

It's been years since she's done prosthetics. Usually she has the Monas to refer amputees to for fitting, but they're on scramble, and she has no way of contacting them. She's not even sure where they're currently stationed. Sure, she could probably whinge at one of the big kids long enough to get the Monas' likely location, but even with that, they're going to be on scramble for who knows _how_ long, and the Alliance sure as shit won't send someone off for a prosthetic fitting during that.

Not with “so many exceptional surgeons” on Home One.

With the bantha shit for brains they have in the medical ward, it's a fucking miracle there hasn't been an outbreak of some readily identifiable, easily treatable, but relatively debilitating infection. They wouldn't know Corellian Pox if the pustules exploded in their fucking faces. There is no force in the Galaxy that could convince, or force, Bones to put one of _her_ patients in the hands of one of _those_ incompetent _gizkas_.

She glares harder at her datapad. The prosthesis surgery literature is a jumble of words and heavy jargon, with recovery values and standard deviations and _fancy statistical language_ she never properly learned but understands enough of to get by.

There's nothing straight forward about anchoring a prosthetic to bone and nerve and muscle tissue. Nothing simple in creating false ligaments and tying them in to the prosthetics' input.

She'll have to see what models they have available, if any of them will do what needs to be done. Or even if they have one of the newer, moderately universal bases she can tie into the nervous system. That would perhaps be the best route. There are at least good walkthroughs for how to perform those operations, since they're in regular use, and she could get one of the techs to adapt any available and suitable prosthetic to it.

She takes another sip of caf and continues glowering through the literature.

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters today because they're weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee (the second one is even wee-er than this).
> 
> In other news, I may have a few weeks of project work (YAY) which means a glorious mix of inspiration and lack of energy, and then I'm back at uni, so expect a MASSIVE slowdown on the updates, because I'm also going to be trying to ride more. But the good news is we're now into drabble territory, so I can still update.
> 
> ...the bad news is I HAVE TO WEAR BIG KID PANTS! BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

The next night's dinner is stew. With chunks of meat.

There is silence for a few minutes while everyone (including Chirrut, much to his relief) begin to eat. Bread is dunked and slurped up.

“Your leg is quite delicious, Jyn,” Chirrut comments. Cassian nearly drops his bowl and gapes at him for a moment before realising _not her actual leg_.

Jyn snorts and stew dribbles down her chin. She squeaks and wipes at the mess with the back of her arm. Baze groans and rolls his eyes.

“Bit stringy,” Bodhi says with a grin.

“It's all the ass-kicking I did, sorry,” Jyn quips. Cassian snorts into his stew. She smacks him in the chest and gives him a Look.

“What! I'm laughing because it's a _good_ reason,” Cassian says in his defence. Jyn gives him the Look for a further moment, before she returns to her stew.

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second teeny weeny teeny tiny chapter, but it sits JUST the way I want it to.

They drop out of hyperspace. Hours pass and there is no lurching re-entry.

Bones thinks she might be able to eat again, soon.

 


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCKIT HAVE CANDY AS WELL!
> 
> Not-so-Secretly-a-Unicorn is most of the inspiration behind Linta, and she gives me glorious Linta-isms. The first line is one of those Linta-isms. It was supposed to be just a single mention. The Rogue One crew had other ideas.

“Eat your sweetie and shut up,” Linta says. Cassian gives her a hard glare but complies, popping the hard candy into his mouth with somewhat more vehemence than is required.

“Don't I get a candy?” Chirrut asks.

“No, _you_ get therapy,” she replies.

“What about me?” Jyn pipes up.

“Are we playing candy candy therapy?” Chirrut says. “In which case I get candy too, and Jyn gets therapy.”

Linta casts Bones a wide-eyed look as she sidles around the corners of the room, trying to avoid notice.

“Your idea,” Bones says. “I get candy, though, don't I?” Linta gives a quiet hiss of frustration.

“Or is everyone just getting candy?” Chirrut continues.

“May I have some?” Bodhi asks from the corner. He is now bare of bandages. The slough has come away, leaving raw wounds that healed to new, vibrantly pink and fragile skin in an eight hour bacta immersion. Soon he'll be able to wear pants.

He's expressed some interest in being able to wear pants again.

“ _You_ can have some candy, Bodhi,” Linta says, and deposits a piece in his hand. He grins at the room and pops it in his mouth. Sticks it in his cheek to suck and goes back to poking the datapad in his hands. “Now if you all behaved nicely _like Bodhi_ you'd get candy, too.”

“But Cassian's not well behaved and he got candy,” Jyn says.

“He got candy because he just came out of a long bacta run and is clearly feeling cranky,” Linta replies.

“Well I'm one out of two, don't I get candy?” she juts her chin out in that stubborn way of hers and looks up at Linta.

“Sedative, anyone?” Bones offers, pulling the hypospray out of her pocket and waving it at head-height.

“Me, before I commit murder,” Linta grizzles, but she can't help the smile creeping over her lips.

“Okay, everyone gets sedatives,” Bones says, heading towards the cabinet.

“If we behave, do we get candy?” Chirrut asks.

“No, but you won't get sedated,” Bones replies.

“I'll take that,” Chirrut replies. There's silence for a while.

“Do I get candy?” Baze asks.

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This interlude is set anywhere between 10 and 17 years before Rogue One. Technically it's after "The third time Davits Draven meets Bones ..." but that's neither here nor there :D (and won't be posted for a wee while because DOCTOR SINCLAIR)
> 
> Also, Twi'leks by canon run hotter than humans, so I've given them a slightly warmer temperature. Mon Calamari are an aquatic species clearly based on googly-eyed goldfish. I've actually based them off sharks, where their body temperature is dependent on their environment, and I think is usually about +7-10 degrees on environmental temperature.

When Linta is reassigned to the medical crew on one of the larger Alliance frigates, she is met by the Glowing Figure In White: Mon Mothma.

“I am hoping you can assist with a … friend of mine,” Mon Mothma says. Commander Davits Draven stands beside her, along with Lieutenant Nolan. Linta stands stiffly, hands tucked behind her back. “You were reassigned here to be Head Nurse to Doctor Bones.”

Linta blinks. “Me?” she says.

“Yes,” Mon Mothma replies.

“But I'm a junior nurse,” she says.

“You come highly recommended from the Monas brothers,” Mon Mothma says. Linta goes quiet. “This will not be an easy assignment. Doctor Bones is …” Mon Mothma looks at Commander Draven for assistance.

“Violent, volatile, loud, abusive and an overall _kriffing_ pain in the arse,” Commander Draven says. He sighs. “She's also quite possibly the best doctor we have in the fleet.”

“Oh,” Linta says.

“She has a … tumultuous relationship with other doctors,” Mon Mothma says with a little smile.

“She thinks they're all laserbrains,” Commander Draven explains. Linta snorts.

“Some of them are,” she replies and bites in the inside of her cheek to stop herself from continuing. Mon Mothma's eyes twinkle.

“Your new role is essentially to manage her, make sure she has everything she needs that we can provide, and to keep her separate from other doctors,” Mon Mothma says.

“Okay,” Linta says. “When do I meet her?”

“We shall introduce you to her now,” Mon Mothma says, and they head off through the bowels of the ship, taking this turn and that until they stand outside a door. Mon Mothma enters first. Commander Draven gestures for her to follow. She does.

“Normal temperature for human?” The question is barked. Linta looks around the room, finally spotting the woman hunched over a twi'lek, bending his leg into his torso and holding it there.

“Thirty seven,” Linta replies.

“Twi'lek?”

“Thirty nine,” Linta replies.

“Mon Calamari?”

“Dependent on the environment, safe ranges from twenty to forty five,” Linta replies.

“How do you take manual blood pressure?”

“Find a superficial artery to auscultate, occlude the artery with an inflater cuff and record the pressures at which you first hear blood flow and when you hear the second flow,” she replies.

“This fucker's just recovering from fractured L-three vertebrae, what muscles does that nerve impact?”

“Ah _kriff_. There's a lateral spine flexor, a hip flexor, and the external obturator?”

“Can you make caf?”

“Yes.”

“Well get to it.”

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bones is absolutely behind stabbing people in the foot for science. 
> 
> Also have decided that Fest is a planet of Spanish speakers so here, have some Spanish swears. (I need to go live on Fest because UNF HISPANICS AND THEIR SPANISH SPEAKING WAYS their hips do not lie (*cough*DiegoLuna*cough*).)

Bones walks past Cassian's table and jabs a needle into the underside of his big toe. He yelps and his foot jerks away from the noxious stimuli. It's only a small twitch, but it's a twitch. Bones looks at him. Jabs the needle into the underside of his other big toe. He yells and that foot twitches as well.

“ _A la mierda_ , what are you doing?” he howls.

“Testing your nervous reflexes,” Bones replies. “Now lie down, look up, and don't expect me to stab you in the foot again.” His eyebrows nearly hit his hairline, but he does as he's told, if only because Jyn is frowning at him from her bed barely a metre away.

He knows she'll _make him_ do as he's told if he's too belligerent.

Bones stabs the medial aspect of the bottom of his right foot and the foot flinches. She jabs the lateral aspect of his left foot, near his heel, and the foot flinches. The foot flinches when she jabs his little toe, his heel.

“Well you're looking good so far,” Bones says.

“Are you done turning me into a pin cushion?” Cassian demands, glaring down at the unapologetic Bones.

“For now,” she says with a smile full of teeth and menace. “We're going to do some leg exercises, you and I.” She flips off Cassian's sheet and he flinches, hands scrabbling to keep his gown down about his hips. “I'm going to move your legs for you. Stay relaxed.”

Jyn watches keenly as Bones slowly bends Cassian's knee, keeping his heel on the bed, up until his heel is almost tucked up against his diaper. Every few inches she flicks his hospital gown around to maintain his decency. She holds the foot there, then begins to slowly extend the leg back down along the bed, adjusting the gown as she goes.

Cassian's face is a scrunched up mess of concentration and concern. “It does not feel right,” he grunts. Bones looks up at him.

“You did a fucking number on your spine,” she replies. “The fact that you have reflex arcs is no less than a fucking miracle.”

“All is as the For-”

“Say that again and I'll keep you sedated until I throw you out,” Bones snarls.

“-ce wills it,” Chirrut finishes. She casts him a glare. He grins. She turns back to Cassian.

“I'm going to extend your leg straight up,” she says, and begins to lift the leg, one hand on his ankle and the other on his knee. She continues adjusting the gown as she raises the leg, until it's straight in the air. “Stay relaxed,” she says, and Cassian takes a deep breath. He exhales. Forces every muscle to release. “Good,” she hums, and begins to slowly lower the leg until his heel is once more in contact with the bed. She raises it slightly, and crosses it over his midline. Re-straightens it and places it back on the bed. Moves the leg until his heel is inline with his other knee, then slowly rotates the knee outwards. Straightens the leg up again, and rotates the knee inwards.

She places that leg down flat and flexes his foot until his toes point to the wall, placing a hand on his knee to keep it straight. She extends the foot, drawing it back up towards his body. Does the same with his toes. Then goes to his other leg and carefully repeats the exercises.

Cassian shuffles when she's done. “It still does not feel right,” he mumbles.

“It won't,” Bones replies. “I'll have some leg braces made up and some parallel poles. We'll get you up and moving as soon as possible. You have some movement, but we're still going to start from the ground up. Which means baby steps, and you will be frustrated as fuck but you will follow my instructions _to the fucking letter_ and you will have some use of your legs back,” she says, leaning forward. Cassian matches her intensity.

“I _will_ walk again,” he growls. She gives him a twitch of a smile.

“Standing is the first step, but before even that, it's _upper body work time_.”

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So good/bad news! The good news is, I start work tomorrow for 3 weeks at the law firm I worked at last summer. The bad news is, I start work tomorrow for 3 weeks at the law firm I worked at last summer! This will leave me with not a lot of time to write, as I'll be finishing up at 5 then have a few hours of animal feeding/cleaning/maybe riding horses to do afterwards :D
> 
> We've enjoyed an unprecedented level of updates to this point. Now it's time for that to (sadly) crash and burn as my holidays grind to an end and university starts up again.
> 
> ALSO, EVERYONE GO READ [LIKE CREATURES IN THE WIND](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9522011) THIS SERIES IS PART OF BONES CANON! Written by the incredible [Wolf_Storm](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolf_Storm/pseuds/Wolf_Storm) AKA Satan, I'll be posting the Bones follow up to it in the coming week(s).

They lurch into hyperspace again, and this time Bones excuses herself to the fresher. When she finally emerges, Linta springs on her and jabs her in the neck with a hypospray.

“The fuck?” Bones howls, spinning on her.

“Anti-nausea,” Linta replies. “Now you can either sit at your desk and read or you can go back to your quarters and have a lie down.” Bones glares at her for a moment then sulks off to the corner desk. Casts Linta another glare. Plonks into the chair, puts her feet up on the desk, and snatches up the nearest datapad. Glares at Linta again, and starts reading.

Jyn very carefully hides her smile when Bones continues to shoot glares over the top of her datapad at Linta.

“Oh stopit,” Linta says without looking up. Bones snorts. It has the air of almost a ritual – an act, a moment of give and take, that has been repeated hundreds of times before.

The comm chirps. “You found my beach?” she asks. There's a length of silence. “Davits,” she says in a low voice of warning.

“What's the complete opposite of a sunny beach?” the comm eventually replies.

“Oh, I know this!” Linta chirps. “A frozen wasteland!”

Bones glares at her comm. “You didn't,” she says.

“Oh, it wasn't me, but we're on our way now. We're doing a further scatter with rendezvous in two days.”

“Cold, Davits, you're subjecting me to _cold_ ,” Bones growls. There's another moment of silence.

“Suck it up, buttercup,” comes the cheeky response, and the line goes dead before Bones can scream her response at him.

She still screams the profanities at the comm, Davits just can't hear them.

 


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOOO WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT SLOWING DOWN ON THE UPDATES? 
> 
> (Okay, no, really, the updates are going to slow the fuck down now)
> 
> Okay now I have a question for all you readers. Some have already told me, but I'm curious. Do you ship Bones with anyone? Who? I can neither confirm nor deny plans I may or may not have with regards to her. (Because I have no idea how she's going to react to the plans - she's already told me where I can shove some of them!!)

It's a while before Bones finishes mumbling all the exceptionally painful things she will do to General Davits Draven. Linta hides her laughter behind a datapad. Chirrut doesn't. Cassian turns his face away and shakes with barely repressed giggles. Jyn grins at Bones.

Bodhi ducks his head and focusses on his own datapad, lips clamped tight but still turning up in the corners. His eyes crinkle with mirth.

“Right,” she says, dropping her datapad onto the desk and swinging to her feet. “Chirrut.”

“Whatever it was, I didn't do it,” Chirrut replies.

“We all know you did,” Bones replies back just as quickly. “I don't know what it is you haven't done, but you've definitely done it.”

“It's true,” Baze says evenly. Chirrut gasps and puts his hand on his chest.

“You wound me,” he says.

“I'll wound you,” Bones growls, coming up to his table. “Your ear needs more bacta time and I can't justify any more full immersions, so we're going to get _inventive_ ,” she says with a grin. She claps her hands together. “Linta, care to give me a hand with this?”

“Oh, what?” Linta says, shuffling to her feet and wandering over.

“We need to get a decent amount of bacta goo into his ear and keep it there to continue healing the tympanic membrane,” Bones says.

“Easy, stick him on his side, fill his earhole with bacta, sticky over it,” Linta says.

“I'm not too keen on him being in his side for six to eight hours at a time,” Bones replies.

“Remember those old pilot headphones?” Linta asks.

“Oh, the ones with the badass seals on them?”

“Are you thinking what I'm thinking?”

“I think I am.” Bones grins.

“Fill the ear up, drill two holes in the top of the earpiece, strap it on and stick it up, and fill it up with bacta. He'd have to sit up, but it'll stay on and it shouldn't leak too much if we get it on right,” Linta says.

“It'll work. We'll need to tape it up as well, but it'll work.” Bones rubs her hands together with a look of unbridled glee.

“I'll get someone to run up a few from repurposing so we have a selection,” Linta says, and steps to the side to murmur into her comm. A few minutes later, a boy runs up with ten slightly different sets of headphones slung over his arms.

“Sirs, your headphones,” he says. “Where would you like them?”

“Here,” Linta calls, slapping her hand on the top of the mobile table she's drawn up beside Chirrut. The boy drops them to the table and scampers back out. Bones pulls out a cordless powerdrill, depresses the trigger, and _cackles_ at the whirring.

Everyone looks at Bones with deep distrust. Except Linta, who is too busy rummaging through the headphones and mumbling to really worry about the grins Bones is casting at everyone as she activates the drill.

“This one,” Linta says. Rips out the foam inner and the speaker, tossing them to one side. She pulls a pen out from her hip-holster, draws two dots near the top of the earpiece and hands it to Bones. “Right thur, please,” Linta says.

Bones grabs it and stabs it with more enthusiasm than strictly necessary and a maniacal giggle that has even Chirrut looking worried.

Bodhi sits in the corner and beams like this is the best show in the galaxy.

She hands it back to Linta and puts the drill to one side, locking the mechanism 'off'.

“I'm going to put some headphones on your head,” Linta says. Chirrut nods. She flips them over his head and adjusts them minutely. Humms for a bit. Adjusts them again and pulls them off. “Right, we're chopping this off and bandaging it up so he can at least hear out of _one_ ear,” Linta says. Bones whips out a large saw, and _no one_ laughs. In fact, everyone goes very quiet.

Except Linta, who hands her the headphones and watches as Bones saws one of the ears off. Linta takes the mutilated headphones and begins to attack the rough edge with tape and bandaging. She flips it on over Chirrut's head again and adjusts it.

“How's it feel?” she asks.

“Peculiar, but not uncomfortable,” Chirrut replies. Linta removes it.

“Good. Now comes the uncomfortable part. Roll over onto your side, we're going to syringe some fluid into your ear canal and then stick this onto the side of your head,” Linta instructs. Chirrut sighs and rolls onto his side, presenting them with his ear. Bones hands Linta the syringe and steps back.

Linta takes her time filling Chirrut's ear with bacta goo. It's an unpleasant process, judging by the faces Chirrut makes. When she's done, she slips the headphones over his ears and starts taping the edges up. Bones hands her another large syringe of bacta. Linta starts filling the cavity formed between his head and the metal casing of the earpiece.

“Okay, let's get this bed up,” Linta says, and Bones pokes the bed remote to raise the head. Chirrut shuffles around so he's sitting up. Linta removes the now empty syringe.

“You're right, this is very uncomfortable,” Chirrut grouses.

“But it means we might be able to improve your hearing even more,” Bones replies.

“Then I will suffer the discomfort gladly,” he replies.

 


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little update.
> 
> Subscribe to the series! I've stopped putting off what I have to do to continue this series properly, so we're going to wrap up A Pile Of Bones shortly and go diving head-first into a direct sequel from a very different POV!
> 
> I've also written some prequel drabbles that are entirely Davits/Bones centered (set 15-17 years BBY). I was trying to drunk write smut and failed twice.

It is three days before they arrive at Hoth, by which stage Chirrut is totally mobile (and a total bloody _menace_ ) and Cassian has graduated from rolling around on the bed to strapping his own braces on and carefully swinging himself around to stand next to his bed – with Linta and Bones on either side to provide additional support should he need it.

Bones still hasn't released any of them. Is hesitant to do so in light of the camaraderie. How the shadows around their eyes disappear almost as soon as they appear. How someone – usually Chirrut – acts up.

How they all smile, despite the missing limbs, organs, mobility.

She doesn't want to release them into the wilds of Home One, but she can't continue to justify the occupied beds. Not now that Chirrut is up and about.

Not that she'll be particularly sad to see Chirrut go. Honestly, _everything_ can be turned into a blind joke. _**Everything**_.

Even Linta is getting ready to throttle him, and Linta has worked for Bones for well over ten years, so her tolerance for shit, shit, more shit, and _really bad jokes_ is astronomical.

And yet, she hesitates. Linta glares at her. She shrugs and goes back to her datapad. Fires off a message to Admin while she's at it to locate the Monas brothers.

She can put release off another day.

 


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot how good/bad working is. It's good because HAY (actually hay) but bad because I have zero time after all that and my animals to sit down and be. Only one more week to go, then I've got a few days off between visitors, then back to uni!!!
> 
> Make sure you subscribe to the series, because this story is wrapping up shortly to go directly into a sequel! I've stopped procrastinating.

It's Davits who eventually corners her two days later.

Cassian has progressed to shifting his weight (slowly) from one leg to the other, barely supporting himself on the parallel bars. Jyn watches him like a hawk.

Chirrut displays significant interest himself. He and Baze hold quiet conferences on his bed.

“We need them out,” Davits says.

“Who does the royal 'we' include?” Bones asks.

“Bigger royal 'we's than I,” Davits replies. “I've given you what time I can.”

“Thank you, Davits,” Bones says. She gives him a pinched smile. “Cassian isn't walking, yet.”

“Don't you have those leggy things?” Bones glares at him.

“I _do_ , but that will mean he'll be moving around and on his feet for too long,” Bones growls.

“I can keep him on light work,” Davits says.

“You and I both know that won't happen,” Bones replies. “Not with you and not with him.” She runs a hand down her face. “I'll get a wheelchair for him, but I need him to follow a strict rest and rehab regime and I need your _word_ , Davits, _your sworn oath on your right kidney_ that you will do everything in your power to enable him to follow it.”

Davits gives her a solemn look and presses his hand to his right side. “I swear, on my right kidney,” he begins. Bones grabs his hand and shoves it up his side, to where his right kidney actually sits. “Thank you. I swear, on my right kidney, that I will do everything in my power to enable Cassian to follow your strict rest and rehabilitation regime.”

Bones snorts. “I'll be back for your right kidney in a week,” she says.

“I take offence to that,” Davits says. “It'll be at least two weeks.” Bones snorts again.

“I'll believe that when I see it. Now fuck off, I've got wheelchairs to sort out, release paperwork to write, and an organ harvesting surgery to organise with Linta,” she says, baring her teeth at him. Davits raises an eyebrow and smirks.

“Yes marm,” he says, flicking her a brief salute before sauntering off. Bones shakes her head at his retreating back and reroutes her feet towards the med room.

 


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to give you all a chapter for Valentines Day (TO SHOW HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU ALL, BECAUSE SERIOUSLY, YOU'RE THE FUCKING BEES KNEES YOU GUYS ARE LIFE AND LOVE AND EVERYTHING THAT IS GOOD IN THIS WORLD!), but I didn't want to give you guys the ACTUAL next chapter.
> 
> So here's a cheeky filler chapter I wrote ages ago :D
> 
> This is set 18 years BBY (because I've now actually sorted out the timeline, WOO!). Warning for rampant abuse of the word 'fuck'. (I actually had to add some extras in...)
> 
> And now I'm off on my valentine's day walkies date with doggo and then my valentine's day cuddle date with my two horses :D

The second time Davits Draven meets Bones is months later in a disciplinary hearing. He's not entirely sure why he's here. Mon Mothma sits at the head of the table. Bones slouches on one side, arms folded over her chest and face sullen. A doctor with fading bruises around his nose and eyes sits on the other side.

“Why did you punch Doctor Sinclair?” Mon Mothma asks.

“Why did she _break my kriffin nose_ , you mean?” the Doctor spits. Bones sets her jaw. Her eyes _burn_.

“Would you explain your actions?” Mon Mothma asks, angling her shoulders towards Bones.

She bursts into movement, straight up out of her seat with arms in the air. Her chair hits the wall with a clatter. “This is fucking ridiculous,” she hisses, feet moving her restlessly up and down the side of the table. Arms cross and re-cross. “He was about to put a haemorrhaging patient into bacta _before stabilising them_ ,” she howls. Slams her hands down on the table and leans over, invading the Doctor's space as far as she can. He leans back in his chair until it tips, hands coming up to protect his face. “I was scrubbing in to operate when the _bantha turd_ started to take him away for immersion.”

“And then she hit m-” Mon Mothma's hand comes up to silence the Doctor and he clamps his mouth shut.

Bones pulls her gums back and bares her teeth at the Doctor. She pauses only a moment of her frantic pacing. “You weren't fucking  _listening to me_ ,” she snaps. “I'd already watched one fucking pilot _bleed out_ in those _fucking_ tanks because _you_ didn't bother tying off any of the fucking blood vessels in his _fucking_ arm stump! _Fuck_ , you were quite happy shoving _him_ ,” and here she throws her arm in the vague direction of Davits, and he suddenly recognises the Doctor beneath the bruising, “into the bacta tank _without fixing his totally severed femoral fucking artery_!”

Mon Mothma turns to the Doctor, her face a mask of serenity. “Would you please explain to me what happened, in your own words, Doctor Sinclair?”

He sits forward. “ _My patient_ was perfectly stable and was due to go into the bacta tank when _she_ swans over and starts bleating on about abdominal haemorrhage. The blood pressure monitor hadn't indicated any issues, so -”

“ _That's because you're a fucking moron_ , his BP was dropping faster than your brains are dripping out your _fucking_ ears!” Bones yells.

“ _As I was saying_ ,” Doctor Sinclair says, “the monitor hadn't indicated any issues, the bioscan I'd done ten minutes prior hadn't shown anything of concern, and the tank was prepped and ready for him.”

“Ten fucking minutes ago _, great shitstains_ are you incompetent or what! I _showed you_ the fucking bioscan saying ' _he is bleeding into his fucking peritoneal cavity_ ' and you still wanted to bacta him!”

“Thank you, Doctor Bones, that is quite enough,” Mon Mothma says benignly. “I will take this information and revert with a decision as soon as I have discussed this with a third party. For now, I will instruct the Redemption Chief Medical Officer to maintain separate shifts for you, and if an emergency comes in where there are all hands on deck, you are to be in _separate rooms_.”

Bones locks eyes with Davits and he has a moment of wondering how blue eyes can remind him of fire before she's stalking out the door past them.

Mon Mothma turns to Doctor Sinclair. Steeples her fingers and leans forward slightly, eyes intent on him. “So you are aware, I personally brought Doctor Bones into the Alliance. She saved my life while Alliance medics did nothing. I will be putting the patient information before two expert doctors and if they deem the man may have, as Doctor Bones said, bled out during immersion, you will be reassigned.” Mon Mothma stands and leaves the room. Davits follows.

 


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations, folks, this is the first multi-chapter fic I have ever labelled as 'complete'. 
> 
> Admittedly it's not ACTUALLY complete, because we're going on to the next story, which is their lives now that they are no longer in Bones' gentle clutches. There's going to be a BIG pause here as I devour Rogue One so I can really get into everyone's heads, but once I'm done I have ... quite a bit ready to go.
> 
> So go stalk the series, because this is THE LAST CHAPTER OF A PILE OF BONES! 
> 
> While I'm here, I'd like to say a massive thank you to everyone who has read, kudosed, and reviewed this fic. This is the biggest response I have EVER had to a fic. It is absolutely due to you that this has been written so quickly. I love every single one of you - your commentary, your enthusiasm, your prodding, your hearts, your facerolls, YOUR CAPSLOCKS (I FUCKING LOVE CAPSLOCKS), the promises to kidnap people, you are all fantastic.
> 
> I hope to see you all on the flip side <3

Bones enters the room pushing a wheel chair, and everyone turns to stare at her. “I'm kicking you all out,” she says lightly.

In the corner, Bodhi's face drops.

“Why?” Jyn asks, chin jutting forward and setting.

“Well it's either that or Linta murders Chirrut or me,” she replies. Chirrut grins in the general direction of Linta. “Orders from up high. They've ordered your release from my tender care.”

Cassian looks at her. “I can't walk,” he says.

“Wheelchair. You're not getting legs because then you'll be on them all the time. You're also going to follow my imposed rest and rehabilitation regime, or I will collect your kidney as well as Davits',” Bones says as she pushes the chair up to Cassian's bedside. Bones casts a look at Jyn, who nods and sets her chin even more firmly. Bones grins. “Jyn is my external enforcer.” Cassian sends a worried glance over to the bed next to him, where Jyn sits and watches.

“Okay,” Cassian says, slowly and carefully, not taking his eyes off Jyn. She is perched on the edge of her bed, crutches just to one side and in easy reach.

“Even though you're no longer in the infirmary, you are still recovering, and you need to spend the majority of your time _at leisure_ , which means _lying in your cot_ and playing with a datapad. Or sleeping. Having a wheelchair does not mean you can spend more time scooting around in said wheelchair because you're not on your feet,” Bones continues.

“Okay,” Cassian says.

“The wheelchair is also an old model, sorry, we can get all the fancy as fuck bacta shit, but we can't get our hands on anything repulsorlift powered, don't ask me why, I'm still wondering whether the heads of medicine have actually been lobotomised or if they've been replaced by nerfs.” Linta snorts at that. “Sit up and get in and you're free to go.”

Bones is impressed at the speed at which Cassian lifts himself up and works his way to the edge of the bed. He takes a moment to gauge the height of the wheelchair, the height of the bed, and the best way of maneuvering himself from here to there. He grabs the wheelchair and moves it a bit. “This is the wheel lock,” Bones says, pointing to one of the buttons on the side. Cassian hums as he considers, adjusts the wheelchair some more, and locks the wheels.

Bones is even more impressed at how quickly Cassian works out the logistics of getting from a bed into a wheelchair using mostly his upper body. He settles, unlocks the wheels, and experimentally runs his arms down the wheel railings.

“Okay, I can go now?” Cassian asks, looking up at Bones impatiently.

“Yeah, there are some ensigns outside ready to take you to your rooms. Now fuck off,” Bones grizzles, stalking over to her desk and grabbing her datapad.

Jyn swings herself to her foot on her crutches and follows Cassian out with a quiet “I'll keep an eye on him.”

Bodhi ducks his head and clutches his datapad to his chest. “Thank you,” he says earnestly.

“You're back in every two days for a week, and no working on anything without thick gloves. The skin on your hands is still too new,” Bones replies, not looking up.

“Okay, I'll see you then,” Bodhi says, and wanders out after Jyn.

Chirrut is ready and waiting at the door. Baze turns to look back. Bones glares at him. He meets her look. Raises an eyebrow and gives a little smile. Bones glares harder.

“We'll see you later!” Chirrut says, cheerfully.

“Fuck off,” Bones growls, rolling her eyes.

“Don't come back any time soon!” Linta calls to their departing backs. “If I ever hear another blind joke again it will be too soon.”

“Fuck, right.”

 


End file.
